


undead gothamite

by redtruthed



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Under the Red Hood, Red Hood: Lost Days, Under the Red Hood
Genre: A lot of talking, Anger, Angst, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Batman - Freeform, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassandra Cain is Batgirl, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Fluff, Gen, Gotham, Halloween, Jason Todd Has Issues, Metahumans, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reconciliation, Red Hood - Freeform, Stephanie Brown is Spoiler, The Lazarus Pit, Tim Drake is Red Robin, WIP, a lot of anger too, and they will get better, batfam, but they are trying, canonically and in this fic, pre-n52, the batfamily is one big asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-07 21:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16416269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redtruthed/pseuds/redtruthed
Summary: It's been a year since the events of Batman: Under the Red Hood, and Jason Todd has finally returned to Gotham. But there’s something different about him. Something wrong.His family are going to find out what.And then they’re going to bring him home.





	1. i. the wayward soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something's not right with Jason Todd. Unfortunately for him, he's only just realising it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! if you're reading this, i've just joined tumblr! my username is redtruthed. you can follow me if you want, or maybe even say hi! i'm pretty new to this fandom, so be nice. but I'd love to hear from some of you if you're on there too!!

For Jason, it started with bullets.

They were flying both _at_ and _from_ him. But that wasn’t the point. The point was he was running out of them. Fast. And the goons firing at him sure weren’t. Jason swore from where he crouched behind his overturned coffee table, and started rifling through the weapon stash in front of him.

He managed to find two bombs, four knives, and a plethora of stun traps. But no bullets.

Fuck.

He was unprepared for this. Completely, _utterly_ unprepared. He should’ve made the deal airtight. And in his right mind, he _would’ve._

But he’d been so tired. And because of that he’d forgotten to cover every single one of his tracks, and someone on Black Mask’s payroll had figured out that the ‘ally’ trying to get him out of prison...was actually the Red Hood. The guy who, a year before, had nearly single-handedly burned Sionis’ empire to the ground. And was probably- almost definitely- going to kill him the second he stepped on free land.

So yeah. This hiccup- it wasn’t good. Not for Jason, and certainly not for the coffee table of his sixth safehouse, which was becoming holier and holier by the second.  _Damnit_. He’d liked that table. He’d liked this safehouse, too. 

Just as Jason was about to move, a bullet tore through the back of the coffee table and, inevitably, through his stomach. _Fuck!_ He bent double and damned the world.

His armour would’ve- and _should've-_ been there to deflect that. Okay- so maybe he’d been asleep when the goons came. Maybe he’d been in the closest thing he owned to pyjamas. Maybe, just maybe- he thought he could've been a normal nineteen year old for once.

But no. Instead, he’d been stupid. And now, he’d left himself vulnerable. Weak. Defenceless.

He held his stomach and tried to stop his mouth from trembling. It was difficult, especially when a second bullet ripped through his forearm and splattered his chin with blood.

Before he could stop himself, he hissed. “Fuck!”

“We hear you!” A thug yelled.

“Yeah!” Another chimed in. “You can’t hide forever!”

He was right. Jason _couldn’t._ He swore again, glanced at the bombs in his lap, and released a short breath. Okay. _Okay._ Nobody taught by the greatest fighters and mercenaries on the planet was ever _defenceless_. He just needed to improvise.

Easy peasy.

Hands trembling, he released the pressure on his stomach and used his good arm to throw the traps. Then, he grabbed his wound, picked up the bombs, and ran- taking shelter behind the sofa.

The traps would buy him some time. But not enough. Not _nearly_ enough.

There were yelps. There were screams. Ultimately, all it took was two minutes for the thugs to get on their feet and resume their search of the warehouse. But they were two minutes the thugs couldn’t afford. By the time they were over, Jason had already wired up the bombs in his hands, and in doing so sealed their fate.

“I think he went that way!” A thug yelped, shining a torch through the darkness.

“That’s right,” Jason mused, bomb wire between his teeth. “Say what you’re thinking out loud. Because that _always_ works.”

The group of thugs came closer and closer to the sofa, guns at the ready. Jason waited until they got close- really close- before throwing caution to the wind, and the bombs over his head. What came next were screams.

“Oh-- _fuck!”_

“What the Hell is that?”

The thugs dispersed like startled pigeons, and the one at the front of the group rapidly became the one at the back. If it had been an ordinary bomb, he might have been safe. But Jason had stopped making ordinary weapons the moment he’d left the Lazarus pit. The bomb swivelled in the air, looking for the nearest heat source, and attached itself firmly onto the his back.

“Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!” The thug wailed. “Get it off! Get it off!”

As he tugged and tugged at the bomb, providing the perfect distraction, Jason made for the exit. But amusement took over just before he left, and he turned, pressing a button which released the bomb from the thug’s back. It clattered to the floor, seemingly harmless. The thugs breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“Oh dearie me,” Jason said.

He pressed the detonation button and ran. Or- _tried_ to. It was more of a determined hobble, considering that he was leaking blood everywhere, hurting all over, and growing more and more drowsy by the second. But he couldn’t help but grin as his warehouse burst into flames behind him.

It was a great loss resource wise. In his head, Jason could almost hear Talia Al Ghul tutting at him. _A wasteful soldier is never a good one,_ she’d always said. But Jason had never been much of a good soldier. All you had to do was ask Bruce.

-

Jason woke groggily. You couldn’t really blame him. He had the worst headache, and because the sofa he was on was impossibly small and incredibly stiff, his limbs were bundled and compressed at unsavoury angles. For a second he just lay there, blinking at the ceiling. It was a ceiling he recognised, which was good. He wasn’t on the sofa of the warehouse he’d just blown up, which was also good.

But it was daylight outside, which meant that quite a lot of time had passed. And he was in different clothes, which meant that he must’ve gotten either cold or desperate in the hours prior to him falling asleep. Hours he couldn’t remember...which was unsettling.

Damnit.

Paranoia took over. Jason grabbed the gun strapped to the bottom of the sofa. Leaped from it, heart thumping in his chest.

And then he checked the windows. Analysed the doors. Reviewed his weapon stashes and data. Searched, tirelessly, for any evidence of intervention, danger or surveillance- from the bats, or anyone else. And when he was satisfied, he stood by the sink for a while, trying desperately to recollect what had happened to him in the hours between the attack on his safehouse and now…

It had been near midnight when it happened. And now it was eight in the morning. So he'd been missing for...about seven to eight hours. Shit. And hadn’t he been _shot?_

“Shiiiit,” he hissed, scrambling to pull his hoodie off.

He wasn’t in pain. He wasn’t in any fucking pain.

He _knew_ something was wrong. Should’ve realised earlier. He remembered some things about last night. Being angry at Black Mask. Being shot...twice. Twice. And feeling so light-headed that the blood loss surely would’ve been fatal if he’d allowed it to be. Looking back, it could’ve been the closest to death Jason had been in a long time.

Either way, it was impossible that he was feeling fine right now. Unless he’d been drugged...or turned into a Kryptonian overnight...something was definitely amiss.

He tugged hurriedly at the remains of his t-shirt from the night before, fingers quivering. He was expecting to find something horrendous. A rotting wound, or some sign that he’d quickly, yet completely, lost his mind. Maybe even a few ‘HA, HA’s, written in blood, left there by the Joker, or another of his endless goons.

But all Jason was greeted with was a completely fine stomach. And a completely fine shoulder, too.

“What the Hell?” Jason muttered.

He rushed to his laptop and started clicking through the CCTV footage there. The log from last night was blank. But seven hours ago, he’d apparently stumbled through the back window, dragged his way to the sofa, and instantly fallen asleep. He’d looked completely out of it while doing so, too- like he’d completed these tasks on adrenaline alone. It wouldn’t have surprised him.

What did surprise him was the footage that followed.

About twenty minutes after he fell asleep, a flash covered the screen. The camera cut out, and when it returned, Jason was laying on the sofa once more- an hour later- as if nothing had changed. But his wounds were healed. And he was sleeping completely deeply- something he rarely did. Not unless some higher, darker powers were at work.

 _Fuck._ Someone must’ve tampered with the footage. Either that or the camera had broken on him. But Jason’s tech didn’t do that often. Jason’s tech was _good_.

“Shit,” Jason said. He slammed his fist onto the desk his computer sat on, slumped into his desk chair, and span in angry, determined circles for a moment.

And then he pulled open his desk drawer.

Inside it was the laptop Dick had given him months ago. It was the only piece of WayneTech Jason owned, and the only reason he kept it- the only reason- was because it allowed him to review the cases the so-called bat-clan were working on at any given moment. Jason wasn’t even sure why Dick had given him it in the first place. It had been in a brief moment of weakness, months after the incident with Bruce and Joker. Dick had somehow gotten the address to one of Jason’s old safehouses, mailed him the laptop, and attached it to a label that read-

 _Hey, little wing._ _It’s been a while._

_I know things are rough and we’re on different paths at the moment. But here’s a way in. If you want it._

_You can contact any single one of us from this laptop, as well as use it to see our latest intel. It might be a little buggy, because I programmed it myself and didn’t want Babs to know. But if you want to get it fixed, I’m sure she wouldn’t hesitate to help you. None of us would._

_I know you have a lot of enemies. This laptop is meant to, at the very least, help to keep you safe from them. I know you probably don’t need it. But I’m your brother, and I’m never going to stop worrying about you. I should’ve been there for you when you returned to Gotham, and I wasn’t. I’ll never forgive myself for that. But this laptop is my attempt at bridging the gap without freaking you out._

_Stupid, I know._

_If you use this for malice- even once- Bruce will know. And he’ll come for you. You know he will._

_I love you, Jay._

_I know you’ll do the right thing._

_P.S- I don’t even know if this will reach you or not. But if it does, your address is safe with me. I’m sure you’ll burn it to cinders and move on from it instantly anyways- but I just thought you’d like to know._

Jason had done exactly that, of course. But he’d kept the note. And the laptop too. He’d checked it a couple of times since receiving it. It was how he’d learned that Black Mask had been apprehended, after all. But now- now he was using it for a different purpose entirely. If there’d been freaky things happening in Gotham last night- or a couple of hours ago- the bats would know. There were very few things that they didn’t.

The second it booted up, a barrage of tabs flooded across the screen. There were notifications left right and centre, as well as dozens of messages Dick had left him that Jason outright refused to read. The way Dick had configured the operating system on this laptop was so damn strange. Then again, the way Dick did _everything_ was pretty strange. It almost made Jason miss him.

He clicked through the family’s recently accessed files, foot tapping as he did so. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was looking for. He kept seeing the standard stuff...Penguin doing dodgy deals through the Iceberg Lounge, as per usual...Riddler being as useless and irritating as he’d always been...Two-Face splitting everything in half, like he’d always done…

And then a call popped up on the screen. It appeared so quickly Jason had no idea of what to do, or how to stop it. He jumped, moving back in his seat, and only comprehended what was going on when a voice spoke from the laptop-

“Jason?”

Jason’s heart began to rattle. “Dick?”

“Oh my God,” Dick let out a sound that seemed to be in the middle of desperation and gratefulness. _“Jason.”_

Jason started to panic. He tried to turn the laptop off, to no avail. Not even removing one of its drives worked.

“Jason, what-” Dick cleared his throat. “Where are you? _How_ are you? Are you okay?”

Jason opened his mouth to reply, but failed. His breaths were erratic. Fear was creeping up his stomach. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to say. How to _react_. God. This was crazy. This was crazy this was crazy this was crazy.

He left the room to pick up a sledgehammer. When he returned, Dick was still talking.

“Please- just say _something._ There was an explosion in East Gotham this morning. We're worried sick.” 

Jason held the hammer above the screen.

“Jay?"

Jason was about to swing. But then his grip wavered at the nickname.

It was one thing reading it. It was completely another hearing it _out loud…_

God. Jason hadn’t talked to Dick since that whole fiasco around Black Mask’s stolen Kryptonite. Even then, it had been painful. But it had been _bearable_. Dick hadn’t known who Jason was back then. Hadn’t known he was even _alive_. And now…

Now things were different. And Jason couldn’t bear listening to Dick talk like that- like nothing had changed, like everything was still the same. It would kill him.

“Please talk to me,” Dick said. “Bruce said- Bruce said that the warehouse that blew up could’ve been one of your safehouses, and if so-”

At the mention of Bruce’s name Jason swung the sledgehammer down. Hard. The laptop screen shattered instantly, and the audio splintered into fuzzy, faint garble. For good measure, Jason hit it again. And then, because it felt good, he hit it again, and again, and again, until the laptop was devoid of life, and even then, he swung twice more.

When his arms burned and the laptop lay in splintered pieces, Jason threw the sledgehammer across the room. It landed in a heavy heap, and after a second, so did he. He felt disgusted with himself. He rested his chin on his knees and tried his very best not to cry.

Fuck.

He thought that things like that didn’t affect him anymore. He was sure that they _wouldn’t_.

But he was wrong.


	2. ii. a cavalry of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets Cass and Steph for the first time.

It was four days later that Jason first saw the shadow.

At first he thought that he was imagining it. It wasn't abnormal for him to get paranoid in public. A normal day would be turning around and seeing Jokers in every face in the crowd. A bad day would be turning around and seeing some thug's gun pointed at his temple. But it wasn't often that he got shadows following him. He'd been in Gotham for a month now. And for the most part, the bat-brats had left him alone. Jason knew his luck had to run out sometime. He just didn't think it would be in West Gotham- at five in the afternoon.

He didn't see it as much of a threat, so he carried on walking. He was in civvies, and passing through a crowd, after all. No bat would be stupid enough to try something in conditions like that- not when it was still light outside. But it was midwinter, and the light was starting to drain from the sky. As it did, and the streetlights started to flare, the shadow became sharper. More defined. And more _obvious._

It was weaved in and out of the buildings above and behind him, disappearing whenever he chanced a look. But  _badly._ There was no sense of stealth there whatsoever. So they were probably trying to intimidate him.

Hah.

It would take more than a member of Bruce's stupid _clan_ to intimidate him. Especially after the events of the week before. If Bruce wanted to stoop low enough to send one of his endless recruited kids after him? Fine. Jason had bigger things to worry about. Bigger fish to fry. He was on his way back from seeing one of his tech informants about the footage he'd taken. He hadn't told her much about what had been recorded. Just the basics on the camera fuzzing out like that. But all she'd given him was more questions.

"Without knowing everything," she'd said, looking the camera over. "I'd say that it sounds like a flare. Not something affecting the camera lens _directly._ But something in the room that shone so brightly it overwhelmed the camera lens. So it looked like the camera had broken, but really...the focus was just so bright it meant that the camera wasn't able to record anything."

What did that mean? Jason didn't know. But what he did know was that he'd experienced absolutely no problems with his wounds in the past few days. It was hard to fathom that there had been wounds there at all. He didn't even have _scarring._ So either he'd been on the receiving end of some really bad fear toxin...or something else was amiss. 

But he couldn't focus on that- or toppling Black Mask once and for all- without taking out his little bat problem first. He purposely walked himself to the end of the alley, let out a sigh, and looked up.

“You can come down now.”

There was a pause. And then something- _someone-_ leaped from the roof above and landed in front of Jason in a wobbly heap. She was coated from head to toe in purple, and seemed more than a little bit embarrassed at the fact that she’d been spotted.

“Red Hood,” she accused, hands on her hips.

Jason stuck his hands in his hoodie pockets. “What’d’ya want?”

“You.”

"Seriously?" Jason snorted at that. “You’re not my type.”

The girl’s eyes doubled in size from behind her mask. “I didn’t mean it like _that._ Like in a _want_ want kind of a way. I'm taken. Totally taken. I meant- I _mean-_ I’ve been told to bring you in.”

“That’s nice.”

“I mean it,” the girl took a few steps forward. “Come quietly, and you won't be harmed.”

“That’s an interesting colour scheme you have there,” Jason commented, leaning against the wall. “What’d they call you, _Eggplant?”_

“No,” she narrowed her eyes. “Spoiler.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Jason pinched his brow. “Listen, I’m kind of on a tight schedule right now, so if we could bring this whole shebang to a brief and sudden end, that would be great.”

“Yeah,” Spoiler retorted. “Right. Sure.”

Jason didn’t have time for this. Word on the street said that Black Mask had recently put a two point five million bounty on his head. Any time he wasted out in the open made the chances of someone _acting_ on that bounty all the more likely.

“I don’t know what this is all about,” Jason said, turning. “But I’m leaving.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Spoiler called, quickly following. “You’re not getting away this time. You may have thwarted Batman last year-”

“Excuse me?” Jason whirled. Where was Bruce __finding_ _ these people?  _“Thwarted?”_

 “-But now he's told me to bring you in, and that's exactly what I'm-”

“Okay. _Okay._ Hold your horses, short stuff,” Jason put his hands in the air. “If Batman put you on this case, it wasn’t to bring me in. You’re a mild distraction at best, and a terrible spy at worst. And your sneaking is atrocious.”

Her eyes narrowed a little more. “You’re full of shit, Red Hood.”

“Oh,” Jason grinned. “Are we onto name calling now?”

Spoiler clenched her fists. She was positively vibrating with anger. _God._ Jason almost felt sorry for her.

Almost.

“Just go home, short stuff. You don’t want to pull on this thread.” Jason carried on walking.

“Fine. I won't.”

Jason raised his hand in a wave. “Glad we sorted that out.“

“But she will.”

Jason was about one second into processing that sentence before a punch hit him- hard- in the throat. He stumbled back, choking and gasping for air. He fell onto the concrete below, and got his bearings just long enough to see the latest Batgirl place a foot on his stomach.

“Stay,” she said.

“I’m not a dog,” Jason choked. His throat was throbbing and there were tears in his eyes from the impact. God, what was Bruce _teaching_ these kids? “Who the fuck are you?”

“Batgirl,” Batgirl said. Obviously. Her voice was soft. Softer than Barbara’s, at any rate.

“You sure?” Jason wheezed. “Cos you’re...sorta dressed like the Grim Reaper.”

“Don’t kill,” Batgirl said, shaking her head.

“I think,” Jason held his throat. “You broke my throat.”

“Sorry,” Batgirl tilted her head. “You were at wrong...angle. Didn't mean to hurt. We only mean...to bring you in.”

“See?” Spoiler yelled, pointing down at him.

“Oh, please,” Jason rolled his eyes, and in doing so, caused a couple of tears from his impact to fall. “You didn’t do _shit.”_

“I was a perfect distraction, as you said,” Spoiler said. “Spoiler one, Red Hood Zero.”

“Cute,” Jason grimaced. “Listen, this is great and all, but I can’t be here. There’s a bounty on my head.”

“I read your file,” Batgirl said. “When is there...not?”

“Ha ha,” Jason started wiggling. “No, but seriously. I need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. These people aren’t playing around.”

“We know,” Batgirl said. “Two point five million.”

“Neither are we,” Spoiler said. “First you go off the map for a year. Then, you arrive back in Gotham, and one of the first things you do is blow up one of your warehouses? Next thing we know, Black Mask is gunning for you, and Dick’s going crazy because of some phone call or another-”

“Spoiler,” Batgirl said. “Field name.”

“Oh shit!” Spoiler put her hands over her mouth. _“Nightwing._ I mean. Nightwing. Obviously.  _Fuck.”_

Jason was going to spit out some witty response to that, but it was then that a wave of nausea, pain and drowsiness hit him like a truck, and the words in his brain failed to come to fruition. He clutched at the air for a second, but his arms felt like lead, and the sky above him was darkening, darkening, darkening…

-

When Jason woke, he was gasping for air. Not because he needed it. Because the last thing he remembered was being cornered by two of Batman’s gang, and the last thing he wanted was to wake up in the Cave. But he...didn’t. He woke up handcuffed to a sink, which was alarming. What was more alarming was the fact that he also woke to the sound of...bickering?

“Keep...here.”

“No.”

“Have to.”

“No, Cass. We _don’t_ have to. And we can’t.”

“Can’t take him back to Bruce.”

“Why the fuck not?” Jason realised all too late that it was Spoiler- or whoever it  _was_ under the mask- yelling. “It’s what we were told to do!”

Batgirl- who must’ve been Cass- kept her voice at a steady level. “He’s sick. Not ready.”

 _“Shit,_ Cass.” Spoiler let out an aggravated sigh. “We can’t keep him here. It’s crazy.”

“Trust me?” Cass’ voice lightened a little.

Another annoyed sigh. “Yes.”

“Good,” Cass said.

There was silence. Jason waited for a few seconds to see if the conversation was going to continue, and then he shifted, trying to catch his bearings. It was nearly pitch black in the room. There were blinds dangling over the window behind his head, casting a pattern of stripes along the tiles.

Okay, then. He was in a bathroom. He blindly kicked his legs to the left, and hit something hard.

Okay. So there was a bath. Good to know. He rattled his wrist up and down.

Okay- so he was tied to the pipe of the sink. Would be difficult to break, at this angle- but not _impossible_. Especially if...he fumbled with his free hand at his clothes. Never mind. They'd taken his weapons. His lockpick, too.

Shit.

He was about to dislocate his wrist when the door flew open, and a blonde-haired girl stepped in through the gap. The room flooded with light, and Jason squinted, spluttering.

When he opened his eyes once more, a small, muscular girl was squatting in front of him. Her hair was dark and short, she was wearing a pair of striped pyjamas, and she was...smiling? At _Jason?_

“Awake,” she said, hands on her hips. “Thought so.”

“Holy shit, Cass!” The blonde girl screeched from behind. “You can’t just reveal our secret identities to a _stranger_ like that!”

“Not stranger,” Cass said. She tilted her head at him. “Ja...son?”

Jason scowled up at her. “You punched me in the fucking throat.”

“Yes,” Cass said. She turned to the blonde girl. “This is Steph. Spoiler.”

Steph crossed her arms and sighed. “Yes. I guess that’s me...”

“We want to help,” Cass said, turning to him again.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. What do you think I am, some sort of charity case?”

“No,” Cass put a hand on his shoulder. “Brother.”

Jason stared at her for a moment. And then he started to laugh. Hysterically.

Cass removed the hand, and Steph stared at him with wide eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jason said, shoulders shaking. “It’s just. What?”

“Adopted,” Cass spoke, quietly. And then she pointed to him. “Adopted.”

“No,” Jason spoke. “I’m sorry, but _no._ I’m not Bruce’s son. And I’m certainly not your brother.”

“What are you, then?” Cass’ eyes looked sad.

“I’m a guy on the wrong side of the law,” Jason tugged at the handcuffs. “And you're bats. Let me out of these.”

“No,” Cass said.

“No?” Jason snapped. “Why?”

“Because A: You’re an asshole,” Steph took a step forward. “And B: You passed out on us. For like, three hours.”

“What?” Jason said. “No. You tranqued me.”

Cass shook her head.

“You’re kidding,” Jason said, quietly. The gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn on him. And if she was saying what he thought she was saying...then shit.

Shit shit shit.

“Sick,” Cass reached for his face. “Need help.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” Jason violently jerked back.

Steph scowled. “She’s just trying to help, you dick.”

“She punched me in the fucking throat!”

“Yes!” Steph yelled. “Because we needed to take you in!”

“Well, now you have,” Jason had just about had it. “So where next, huh? The Manor? The Cave? Arkham?”

“None.” Cass shook her head. “You stay here.”

“Hell no,” Jason snapped.

“Umm,” Steph put her hands on her hips. “Until you tell us something useful- Hell _yes.”_

“There are people,” Jason hissed, “trying to kill me.”

Steph shrugged. “Sounds like your problem.”

“You’re putting yourselves in danger,” Jason stressed, tugging at the cuff.

“We’ll be fine,” Steph said. She started for the door. “C’mon, Cass.”

Cass lingered for a moment. She crouched in front of Jason, a soft smile on her face.

“Here...to help,” she said.

“I get that,” Jason whispered. He wasn’t sure why he was whispering, exactly. He just thought that maybe...just maybe...he'd be able to reach out to this girl. _Appeal_ to her, somehow. “Really. I do. But you need to set me free. It’s the only way to help me.”

“Wrong,” Cass said. She stood and left.

“Let us know when you change your mind.” Steph grinned at him before joining Cass in the doorway. “Oh, and by the way, those handcuffs are damned near impossible to get out of. Have fun!”

“For fuck's sake!” Jason yelled. But she was already gone.

Which left him alone with his patience. Well- that and the _impossible handcuffs._

Jason couldn't wait to see which was going to break first.


	3. iii. faith games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason meets his sister. And someone he used to regard as one.

When Jason woke up for the third time that day, he wasn’t in the bathroom anymore. He was in the kitchen, on the floor- with a pillow below his head. The first thing he became aware of was singing- faint below the hiss of the kettle and the bubbling of something on the stove, but there. The next thing he was aware of was that he was no longer handcuffed.

“What the fuck,” he muttered, sitting up.

He massaged his wrists in awe. He remembered dislocating one of them at least _twice_ earlier on that night. He wasn’t able to recall what had come next. But what else was new?

His head was thumping as he glanced across the kitchen. He was halfway through spotting escape routes and exits, making notes of all the possible weapons in sight, and gathering his bearings when Cass bounded in.

At first, it didn’t seem like she’d seen him. She went straight to the pot on the stove, turned the heat down, and carried on humming. And then she turned to him.

“Hi.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. “Um...hi?”

“Your wrist,” Cass said, voice small. “Healed.”

“Yeah,” Jason frowned. “Did you…”

She shook her head no. _Damnit._

“Sleeping,” she said. “Was going to...pop it back. But already did for me.”

Jason watched her suspiciously. She picked up the kettle and brought out two large mugs.

“Tea?” She asked.

“No,” he said. And then he sat up fully. “What the fuck is this?”

“Kitchen,” she offered, helpfully.

“No,” he shook his head. “You...you guys had me handcuffed to a sink. And now I’m here. What changed?”

“Steph went...on patrol. I convinced her that I would stay,” Cass fumbled with her fingers. “You’re sick. Sick people...shouldn’t be chained. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not sick,” Jason insisted.

She shook her head and made him a cup of tea anyway. She placed it on the floor in front of him, before going back to stirring whatever was on the stove.

This was his chance. His chance to escape. He could throw the tea at the wall...cause a diversion. And it would’ve been easy enough to vault out of the window and into the street from there. But for some reason Jason hesitated. This whole situation was so strange he wasn’t sure how to best deal with it. And he hadn’t been around a bat in so long. Part of Jason...a very very small part...was almost curious. Wanted to know how things were now. How they acted...without him. And how much had changed.

“What do you want from me?” He asked, eventually.

Cass took the pot from the stove and sighed. “Help.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

She turned around and touched her own wrist. Jason closed his eyes.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“We have...resources,” Cass offered, eyes bright. “Contacts. Laptops?”

“I don’t need one of Dick’s shitty laptops to get by,” Jason hissed. “I’ve got my own resources. My own contacts.”

“Life would be easier,” Cass offered. “If you weren’t...fighting.”

Jason’s head snapped up then. Frustration humming in his throat.

“All I’ve ever had to do is fight,” he said, voice hoarse. “It’s all I _can_ do. All I’m good at. All life will _let_ me do. If I’m not fighting crooks, I’m fighting you. And if I’m not fighting you, I’m fighting fate. On and on and on. And I’m not going to stop. Not for you, not for Bruce, not for anyone.”  
  
Cass closed her eyes. “Not what I meant…”

“Listen,” Jason stood, rubbing at his wrists. “You’re new to this, so you might not understand. But putting me near you guys...near Bruce...will only end in one thing. _Disaster_. I’ve come to terms with it. You need to as well.”

“It can be different,” Cass bargained, taking a step forwards. “I can keep you safe. I can... _try._ Please stay. Stay for soup. I can help. _Bruce_ can help.”

“Like last time, you mean?” Jason laughed, tugging down the collar of his hoodie. “Do you call _this_ help?”

The scar Bruce had left from his Batarang still haunted Jason. From the look on Cass’ face, it haunted her too. She stared at his neck for a moment, disbelieving, and then, she took an ashamed step back. There. She may have talked the talk, but in the face of the truth- in the face of lost hope- there was nothing to say.

“Listen to me. We’re not family, Cass,” Jason walked to the window. “We might have been, in another life. But not this one. Not after all that’s gone on. To me, and to everything. It’s too late for that.”

“I still want to help you,” Cass said, a little desperately.

Jason watched her for a moment. He had one leg hanging out of the window, and the other still inside. She was holding her own mug of tea, gazing sadly at him. The soup bubbling behind her. The ashes of her song still floating in the air.

“There’s no helping me, Cass,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

And then he left. Before he could stop himself. And before the guilt sank in.

-

“You shouldn’t have come here, Hood.”

It was a day later. Jason was at the bar, in one of the sleaziest parts of Gotham...his Red Hood outfit on for the first time in days. And, of course, there was someone pointing a gun at him. He was really getting tired of that.

“Free country, isn’t it?” He asked.

The man pressed the gun into the back of Jason’s neck. “Not if there’s a bounty on your head, there isn’t.”

“Go on, then,” Jason turned, hands in the air. He was still sat on the barstool. “Take your best shot.”

The man’s mouth became a thin line. He closed his eyes, bracing himself to shoot, and as he did, Jason punched him in the nose. The man staggered backwards and crashed onto the floor, unconscious.

“Dumbass,” Jason uttered. He turned back to the bar.

“Now, I’d ask why such a nice guy like you is in such a dump like this, but…” A voice said, from beside him. “I think I already know the answer.”

Jason startled. A few centimetres away from him sat Barbara Gordon. She’d moved her wheelchair right up to the bar, and had her arms crossed in disapproval. But it was her. Jason stared at her in shock for a moment. He hadn’t seen her, not in person, not since…

Well. Not since he’d died.

She’d been in a hospital bed back then. Having just been shot by the Joker. And they hadn’t spoken much, even then, because Jason had been so eager to go to Ethiopia...to save his so-called mother…

But now she was here. She looked vaguely the same. Her hair was shorter. And she was wearing glasses again. But she still had the same fire, the same wit, that Barbara Gordon always had. And Jason already knew that this wasn’t going to end in his favour.

“Well?” She asked, voice laced with annoyance. “Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?”

“Sorry,” Jason lied. “Just spent my last change.”

“That’s fine,” she said, turning to the bartender. “I wasn’t thirsty anyway.”

There was silence- or, the closest thing to it, in a place like that. Jason stared straight ahead, heart thumping in his chest. He hadn’t felt this tense in a long, long while. Barbara had a way of seeing straight through Jason’s shit, especially when he’d been younger. And he had a horrible feeling she was going to succeed in doing it now.

“I don’t have time for this,” he said, voice heated.

“Oh really,” she said, topically.

“I’m meeting someone here.”

“Yes,” Barbara said. “An informant. Here to give you vital data on Black Mask.”

Jason whirled. “How did you-”

Barbara turned. She raised a single eyebrow at him, and with it, came a ghost of a smirk.

“Oh, fuck,” he turned away. “You have got to be kidding me.”

“You wanted information,” Barbara said. “Here I am.”

“No,” Jason said. He paid for his drink and stood.

“You have two choices here,” Barbara spoke, voice eerily calm. “You can get up and leave, learning nothing. Or you can follow me. Either way, your operation is at risk.”

“Fuck you,” Jason said.

Barbara shrugged and wheeled further into the bar. Jason watched her leave, fists clenched. And then he followed.

She was sitting at a booth in the corner. When he sat opposite her, there were no pleasantries between them. No smiles. No welcomes. Just solid, stern silence.

“Why come here?” He asked, eventually.

“You need information,” Barbara said, tactically. “I’m here to provide it.”

“Let me guess,” Jason said, looking down. “Information as a synonym for...help.”  
  
“No,” Barbara said. “Just information.”  
  
She reached into her bag and produced a USB drive. She put it on the table and watched Jason very, very closely. He leaned in to take it, but she took it back before he could. Her eyes were exceptionally cold.

“Alright,” Jason leaned back. “What’s the catch?”

“Whatever’s going on with you,” Barbara said, “you have to stop it. You’re hurting people.”

Jason laughed behind his mask. “I can’t listen to this.”

“No,” Barbara said. “You can and you will. You’ve been the talk of this town all week. First, you blow up a warehouse. Then you leave some cryptic message to Dick, which has us all worried. Now, this business with Stephanie and Cassandra-”

“-They tied me to a fucking sink,” Jason pressed, hands on the table. “I had nothing to do with that.”  
  
“They offered you help.”

“They stuck their noses in something that didn’t concern them.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have caused trouble on their turf,” Barbara said. “Gotham’s ours. You _know_ it’s always been ours. Why return if you wanted no dealings with us?”

Jason watched her for a moment. Heart racing.

“That’s none of your business,” he said.

“And I’m sure this is none of yours,” she said, dangling the USB drive. “I mean, what would any reasonable nineteen year old boy want with Black Mask’s recruitment data? Could it be anything to do with the fact that he’s started to recruit children as drug mules? Children from Crime Alley, perhaps?”

Jason looked away. His eyes were starting to water from beneath the mask, and his hands were shaking.

“Let us help, Jason,” Barbara pressed. “You might not like some of the things we’ve done, and we might not like you. But there’s no denying that as a team, we stand more of a chance at stopping Black Mask’s operations than you do on your own.”

“You must be joking.”  
  
“Does it look like I’m joking?”

“Five minutes,” Jason said, finger pointing into the table. “Five minutes around Bruce. And I’ll be in a straightjacket or _worse_. On my way to Arkham.”  
  
“You don’t know that.”  
  
“The last time I saw him, he left me for dead.”  
  
“He searched for you.”

“You’re so full of shit,” Jason said. His lip was shaking. “All of you. You’re so- you’re so full of shit.”  
  
“Jason,” Barbara said. Level-headed, as always.

“You all come to me, saying you want to _help._ Saying you want to make things _right._ And then- then all you do is defend Bruce to me. Or control me. Or lock me up in a fucking bathroom and then preach to me about _family_ and _love_ and _forgiveness_. But it’s all the same. None of you really want to help me. You just want to help yourselves.”

“That’s not true,” Barbara said. Her hands were clenched into fists atop the table- the USB drive out of sight.

“Answer me this, Babs,” Jason spoke, mockingly. “Did he send you?”

“No,” Barbara said.

“Tell me the truth.”

“If this is your way of asking whether Bruce is concerned for you-”

“I don’t give a shit about what Bruce thinks!”

“-Then yes, he’s worried. But I didn’t come here for or because of him. I’ve come here because you need our help. And it’s our duty to give it to you.”  
  
“Duty,” Jason laughed. “Don’t come to me, talking about duty. Where were you when all of that shit with Joker went down last year? Where were you, when I was bleeding under the rubble, all over again, and that psychopathic, evil piece of shit was still there- still alive-”  
  
“You don’t have to tell me about the Joker, Jason,” Barbara’s mouth was tight. “Because believe me. I _know_ about the Joker. I know exactly what Bruce will and won’t do. And what you want to do. And trust me. There is not one second of my life- a single fucking second- that I don’t wish that you’d succeeded that night. That you’d ended him. For this city. And for all of us.”

Jason was shocked into silence. Barbara looked at the table, fighting for words. Her cheeks were splotched red and her eyes were watery.

“That night,” she spoke, voice thick. “When I heard you were back, and I heard about what you were doing that night- with Joker- I could barely breathe. I could barely _function_. And when I heard about what Bruce’s solution had been- throwing that Batarang, leaving you injured there- I was disgusted with myself. I was disgusted with _him._ ”

She closed her eyes.

“I still am,” she said.

“Is that really supposed to change anything?” Jason asked, after a while.

“No.” Barbara opened her eyes and placed the USB back on the table. “But I didn’t think it would. I’m disgusted with you too, Jason. Disgusted at some of the things you’ve done. The people you’ve killed. The lives you’ve ruined.”

Jason looked away. He couldn’t listen to this.

“But you’re right,” she said, eventually. “I can’t control what you do. I can’t make you listen to my advice, or use this USB, or accept our help. You made you, Jason. Not Joker, not Talia, not Bruce, not Dick- or anyone else. You did.”

She pushed it to the middle of the table and put her hands in her lap.

“Whatever decision you make, you will have to live with it,” she said, looking his way. “And so will those children.”

Jason reached for the USB. “I know that.”  
  
“Good,” she said, wheeling away. “Then our conversation is finished.”

Jason watched her leave. For some reason, his eyes were stinging, and a small part of him- the part of him that was still Robin, still young, still dumb- wanted to run after her. To apologise. To make up. To accept the help she’d preached.

But that boy had choked to death in the rubble of a warehouse. A warehouse he’d only been in because of his trust in them. His faith in them. And restoring that- no matter how much he might have wanted to- would be a mistake. A mistake he- and the kids who were relying on him- couldn’t afford.

He’d read the USB. He’d take out Black Mask. And then he’d kiss these phantom streets goodbye for the last time.


	4. iv. no man's son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason sees Bruce for the first time in a year. And then...Damian.

The events of the past few days had been weighing heavily on Jason’s mind- especially in relation to Barbara.

Alongside the information on Black Mask’s key hideouts, she’d included a document detailing possible explanations for his...recent collapses. Jason didn’t know why he’d been surprised that Spoiler and Batgirl had ratted him out on that one. No matter how much they’d tried to convince him otherwise, they were still bats. And it wasn’t as if bats had been on Jason’s side _historically..._

The list was short and non-conclusive. But Jason didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that all of the possible reasons on the list were wrong. Nothing along the lines of malnutrition, sleep loss, or dehydration would cause regenerative healing on the scale of what he’d experienced. He was dealing with something a lot worse.

But it would have to wait for another day. The rest of the USB data had checked out, and he was well on his way to shutting Black Mask down for good. The bastard was still in prison, but Jason could still make war from here. He could hit him where it hurt- in one of Black Mask’s major trade warehouses. It was there that they took the kids they recruited from the homeless shelters, and it was there that Jason was going to strike.

Barbara was right about one thing- having the bat brats’ support in terms of skill would’ve made things easier. But they could go fuck themselves, for all he was concerned. He didn’t need their help and he didn’t need their guilt. He would do this on his own, and in his own way. He didn’t need a chaperone, he didn’t need a critic, and he certainly didn’t need to be getting kids like Steph and Cass involved. There were enough kids caught in the crossfire already.

The night was cold as he approached the warehouse. The night was also quiet; silent aside from the humming of trucks passing by and the usual static of the city. Jason was grateful for the quiet. It gave him the peace he needed to strategize; the peace he needed to think.

Getting into the warehouse was the easy part. Black Mask’s goons had never been the smartest bunch. He recruited the heavy hitters for their abilities to heavy hit alone and not for their. Well. Actual _thinking_ ability.

Jason took them out with ease, and, much to his dismay, without killing them. Because he couldn’t. Unlike the goons that came to his safehouse a week ago, he couldn’t be sure if any of these people were children, and if he gunned them down like everyone else, he’d be no better than the people holding them captive.

Didn’t mean he could let them kill him, though. So, in pure bat-style, he filled his gun with sedative rounds, and eliminated them one by one- and without making a big bloody mess.

He was saving the ‘big bloody mess’ part for Black Mask.

Next were the cages. This part was easy, because it consisted of two things- picking the locks, and making sure the kids got out safely. He gave them the addresses of shelters far from Crime Alley, money for the bus, and a revolver.

“Only use that one if things get rough, though,” he added.

Once they were out of the way, and the warehouse was near empty, Jason shifted his focus to the crates. They were kept in the room adjacent to the kid recruits, and were (or had been) guarded heavily. Inside them were rounds and rounds and rounds and rounds of ammunition. Weapons of every kind. Torture devices. Electromagnetic machinery. Jason reviewed the contents of each one with avid interest. He’d thought he’d taken care of most of Black Mask’s weapon’s trade a year ago. But apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Guess I’ll be taking these,” he commented.

“No,” a voice said, from above.

And _of fucking course._

Jason had had a feeling in his stomach that it’d been too quiet. _Artificially_ quiet. And know he knew why.

Batman had been watching him this whole time. Hanging from above. Like the creep he always was. Jason didn’t know if he was more irritated or impressed. It wasn’t easy to sneak up on a man like Jason Todd. But, then again, he had been off his game lately, which made any wins on Batman’s part pure cheating.

“Can we not?” Is what he said first. Looking up like that made his neck hurt, and he was really hoping to have had one non-bat infested day… “Just not today? Please?”

Bruce didn’t move from the bar he was perched upon. His cape was dangling down now, and his stare felt attentive. Even if Jason couldn’t fully see it.

“You didn’t kill them,” Bruce spoke. Montonely.

“I don’t kill kids,” Jason said, bluntly. God. Was Bruce surprised at that fact?

“Not all of them,” Bruce said, slowly. “Were kids.”

“Excuse me for not having time to check,” Jason turned back to the crates. “Maybe on my way out I will. Clean up the mess I left behind.”

Bruce moved then. Because of course he did. A mention of death was all it took to get Batman moving. Jason could’ve been juggling a thousand objects at once and it wouldn’t have got his attention. But one tiny hint of a precious pure Robin had him panicked in any sense of the word.

Luckily for him, Jason didn’t feel like cleaning up the mess. But he would, if that’s what it took to spite Bruce. He tried his very best to stay calm as Bruce landed a few metres behind him. But, because of his damn heart and his damn nerves and the ghost of everything that had happened between them, it proved more difficult than he’d thought.

Fucking Hell. He’d known this day would come sometime. It would’ve been impossible for it not to. Coming back to Gotham had this meeting stamped all over it, in big red letters, like a warning sign. Jason wished he’d had more time to prepare. But the day Bruce cared about Jason’s wishes was the day pigs flew…

“How have you been?”

Jason actually jumped at the question. _Leaped_ at it. Because A: what the fuck. B: they were in the middle of an abandoned warehouse. What the fuck. And C: who the Hell says that in reply to a goddamn fucking death threat?

“Are you kidding me?” He said, turning around.

Bruce looked different than he had a year ago. Jason couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was the costume. The ears were a little shorter, and there was less grey involved. Maybe it was the fact that he looked like he wanted to cry. Jason didn’t know how you could manage to look like you wanted to cry with a full cowl on- but Bruce managed it.

“Oracle has told me you’ve been...sick.” Bruce said.

“Great,” Jason itched at the back of his helmet. “Fucking _great._ This is just what I need right now.”

“Nightwing and Batgirl are concerned for your safety,” Bruce offered.

“No. I’m not doing this,” Jason put the lid back on the crate. “Here. You can have this. And then you can fuck right off, Bruce. Because I’m not doing this. Not now, not ever.”

Bruce visibly deflated a little. He waited until Jason was a few paces’ away, and then he said- “Okay.”

Jason whirled on the spot. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t want to talk,” Bruce repeated. God. He sounded like a fucking robot. “That’s okay.”

“I can’t believe it,” Jason laughed, looking at the ceiling. “After all that’s happened. You’re still trying to guilt-trip me into feeling sorry for you.”

“I don’t,” Bruce looked straight ahead. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

“What do you want, then, Bruce?” Jason put a hand on his hip. “Because I’m having a pretty shit week, I’ve had your clan sniffing around me all frickin’ month, I’ve been handcuffed to a sink, I’ve been lied to, I’ve been punched in the motherfucking throat...

Bruce flinched at the word _throat_. And then he looked down. “I wanted to apologise.”

Jason watched him for a moment. _Really_ watched him. And then he turned on the spot, and started walking again.

“As I said,” he announced. “I’m not doing this.”

He was allowed about ten seconds of peace before he heard the tell-tale sound of a bat-grapple above his head, and then Bruce was in front of him again, expression stern.

“There are about twenty of Black Mask’s men outside,” he said. “Waiting. For you.”

“So what?” Jason walked around him. “I’ll deal with them. I always do.”

“You can’t take on a group that large,” Bruce warned. “They are heavily armed.”

“Fucking Hell, I’ll do anything to get away from you,” Jason said.

“You cannot mow them down,” Bruce called. “Some of them are children.”

“Did you think I was going to _mow them all down?”_ Jason whirled. “Is that really so little you think of me? Gosh darn, that pesky Red Hood isn’t just a psychopathic murderer, he’s a pretty terrible strategist too! Oh, and did I mention that he _loves_ killing kids? And having various animal-oriented heroes breathing down his neck for _no comprehensible reason?”_

“I did not think.” Bruce said, staring at the floor. “You would be home so soon.”

“So this is about me stepping on your turf, is that it?” Jason could’ve laughed. “Well, don’t worry, old man. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

He walked towards the door of the warehouse, already loading his gun.

“Jason,” Bruce said. “Don’t. Please.”

“Go to Hell, Bruce,” Jason said.

He lifted up the warehouse door. He didn’t know which bullet hit him first. Only that there were at least a hundred of them. And that his body went instantly numb. And that the air was filled with noise, both good and bad, and that his knees crumpled from beneath him, and then he was falling, falling, falling…

-

Jason woke slightly in the car. Not much, however. Enough to know he was in the car, and sedated so heavily that it felt as though his entire body was being shoved underwater. Already, he was feeling that steady, familiar drowsiness take over him. It was exactly what he felt before he blacked out, as he had done for the past few days. But being so awake and so calm before it...was definitely new. It felt as though...his body was fighting the darkness. But of course it’d choose to do that, the one time Jason would’ve given anything to be anything but conscious.

The Batmobile was not his favourite vehicle in the world, for obvious reasons. But his body was so numb there wasn’t anything he could do about it. And there was a steady line of saliva making its way down his chin.

There was a scoff of disgust from above him.

“Father, Todd is awake again.”

“Is he responsive?”The response came, hard and emotionlessly, from the driver’s seat.

Jason tried to move his neck to see him, but found that he couldn’t. He couldn’t do much of anything but stare, first at the Batmobile’s ceiling, and then at the boy scowling down at him. He was wearing a green and yellow hood, and wearing the thickest domino mask Jason had ever seen.

The boy sighed. “I can’t believe you’re making me _speak_ to this madman. Let _alone_ be in the same vicinity-”

“Damian.” The voice was even rougher. “Is he responsive.”

‘Damian’ sighed again. And then he waved a hand above Jason’s face. “Todd. Can you hear me?”

Jason tried to speak or swear or do anything that wasn’t just stare, but all he could come up with was a gargled, desperate whine. The boy pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Good God,” he said. “How you were ever a Robin is beyond me.”

“Damian,” Bruce called.

“He’s vaguely responsive. If you classify ‘reeeruughhh’ as a response.”

“Is he in pain?”

Damian bobbed back into Jason’s line of view. “Todd, if you can understand me, please make another repulsive sound if you are in any pain.”

Jason’s eyes began to close.

“I’ll take your silence as a no,” Damian said, as his voice began to fade. “Either that or a sign that you’ve just died. Again..."

“Damian!”

“Don’t worry, father,” Damian said. “I’ll still _check._ Todd. Todd! Are you dead? Todd? Are you dea-”

-

“GaaHhhh!” Jason screamed.

He sat up with what must’ve been the worst fever in the world. But for some reason he was shivering. Jason realised it had less to do with the cold and more due to the fact that he understood, all too late, where he was. 

Wayne Manor. One of the guest rooms. Expensive bed, expensive walls. Chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Paintings hanging from the walls.

He was in nothing but the t-shirt he wore under his armour, and his hair was sticking at all ends. And most importantly, there were a variety of wires and tubes sticking out of his arms. Monitoring tubes. _Restraining_  tubes.

“Nope,” he said, tearing them out. “Nope nope nope nope nope nope nope. Nope. Nope.”

He didn’t mind the blood gushing out. He didn’t even mind the pain. He had one focus and one focus only- escape. And he didn’t care what he had to do- or who he had to hurt- to achieve it.

“People always said you acted like a rabid dog,” a voice said, from the armchair beside him. “But I thought they were joking.”

Jason froze. Sat in the chair was the boy from before. What was his name again. Darren? _Ian?_

“You’re Robin now,” is what left his mouth.

The boy was sat in an expensive looking shirt and shoes. He couldn’t have been older than ten or eleven. His legs were crossed, his hair was spikey, and he looked entirely, completely unimpressed.

“Very astute,” he said, coolly.

“Holy shit,” Jason said. He sank a little further into the bed. “You’re the one I’ve been hearing about. Talia’s kid.”

“You know of my mother?” The boy looked interested at that.

“Yes,” Jason deflated, thinking about the teaching and the murders and the pain and the discipline. “I know _of_ her. She taught me.”

Great. So now he was thinking about the murder pits. And the other kind of pit. And the bleeding of his knuckles and the smell of blood in the air and the chanting and the loss and the fear and the desperation not to lose, not for anything or anyone, and the nameless bodies stacking up like Jenga pieces-

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

The boy sat slowly back in his chair. “Not more than she taught me, I’d expect.”

“No,” Jason tried to get his breathing under control. “I don’t think so either.”

God. He was losing it. He was losing it _big time._ His arms were bleeding everywhere, and he was getting the fine, white, perfect sheets all dirty, and the kid in the chair was probably going to die soon, and he couldn't unsee the Robin symbol, coated in layers and layers and layers and layers of blood-

“Why did you take me here?” He asked, rather desperately. “Why did you save me?”

“Todd,” the boy- Damian, Jason remembered faintly- crossed his legs once more. “You were riddled with bullets. Father wasn’t just going to _leave_ you there.”

“I- I should be dead,” Jason mused. “I should- I should be-”  
  
Oh God. _Great._ Now he was having a panic attack. He hunched over on the bed, scratching at the sheets, trying to find something to distract him from the noise. The pain. The heat.

“Todd?” Damian asked, uncertain. “What are you doing?”

“You shouldn’t,” Jason hissed, “have brought me here.”

“Why not?”

“I’m dying,” Jason wailed. His face was wet. Was it tears or blood? Tears or blood. Tears or blood. Tears or blood tears or blood _tears or blood tears of blood._ “Please. I can’t breathe.”

“You are still alive _despite_ suffering two major organ failures on the drive here,” Damian said, standing. “I doubt this panic will kill you.”

“Please,” Jason begged, trembling.

Damian sighed. “Pennyworth!”

No. No. No. Not _Alfred._ Jason couldn’t deal with Alfred, not like this, not when they hadn’t spoken since- spoken since-

Jason didn’t know whether he blacked out or fell off the bed first. He just knew that his pain ended- like most things did- with a great big _thump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for a double update! 
> 
> let me know what you think in the comments below- I'd be curious to see what you think of things! Also, tons of comments make for faster updates :P It's just the law.
> 
> BTW, I have no idea when or whereabouts Damian traditionally appears in canon, especially in relation to the whole Under the Hood saga from the 2000s, but let's just say he's been in Bruce's life for about two years. Tim's been Red Robin for about a year, and Damian is already an established lovable (yet irritating) member of the family without that whole weird thing where Bruce goes missing and everyone fights for the cowl and Dick ends up as Batman in the end. 
> 
> Don't get me wrong- I love Dick as Batman and Damian as Robin. It just doesn't fit into the weird little timeline I've cooked up that well, and it's not really a priority narrative wise...so I axed it. Soz.
> 
> Also, speaking of Dick...don't worry. He'll be popping up soon enough.
> 
> (Yes, I mentioned him just so I could make a boner joke. It's what Jason would've wanted.)


	5. v. songs of yesteryear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason has a long-overdue conversation with Alfred.

Jason was falling. Falling, falling, falling _still._ It had been a while since he’d had a nightmare as bad as this. Images of knives and broken glass spun circles in his mind. Haunting. Whirling. Chanting.

He was six years old in the nightmare. Never older. He was in his old apartment still- malnourished, maltreated. And his mother was on the sofa, her hand outstretched. Every time he took a step forwards, the carpet beneath his feet sank. And when he hastened, the floor collapsed, and he could never, ever reach her... he just kept falling and falling and falling…

Into Talia’s arms. Another mother, in another life. She dropped him to the ground- hard. There was never any love with her. Only impatience. In the dream, she made him tap dance. There was a gun in her hand. He was still six years old, but she didn’t care. She had to shape him. Mold him. Make him better. He had to prove to her that he was strong. That he was capable. That the world would never forget his name.

He turned to Bruce, knives in his hands. But Bruce was laughing. Sat in the chair, tied up, just as Jason had been in that warehouse in Ethiopia- laughing, and laughing, and laughing. Nothing Jason could do would scare him. It frustrated Jason. Made him cry. And then the Joker was above Jason, laughing too, the Red Hood helmet in his hands. Jason tried to scramble away. Tried to escape. But then the Joker tipped the helmet, and the green waters of the Lazarus pit rushed over him, and he started to scream, wasting away, falling to the ground, into his coffin, where he started to thrash and dig and dig and dig and dig...

“Master Jason?”

A voice pulled him from the coffin. A familiar voice. One that pushed air into Jason’s lungs, air that he hadn’t been able to breathe for so long, because he’d been trapped there, trapped under all of the mud and grime and weight…

“Master Jason? Can you hear me?”

And there it was again. Lifting him up. _Soft_ through all of the rubble. Kind, even six feet under. And so wholly undeserved. Jason rose from his daze blinking, drowsy, grasping for comfort that wasn’t there. Comfort that _shouldn’t_ have been there.

“Alfie?”

He sat up, groggily, to find that someone’s hand was in his. A soft one. Not calloused, and rough, like Bruce’s had always been, or long, and spindly, like Dick’s. But a steady one. One that never ceased to remind him of home.

“In the flesh,” Alfred smiled.

He was sitting beside Jason’s bed. The fireplace was on. Jason was in one of his old t-shirts. And for some reason he felt fourteen again. Complaining to Alfred at three a.m. on Christmas Eve because he couldn’t sleep.

But he wasn’t fourteen anymore. He was nineteen. And there was blood on his hands...so much blood. He felt tainted. Dirty. Wrong.

“I’m so sorry, Alfie,” Jason whispered. “I hurt you.”

Last year he’d aimed all of the hurt at Bruce. But he’d never realised...never stopped to realise...that Alfred may have gotten caught in the crossfire. But it was evident now. Evident in the way he looked at Jason, with so much love and hope and hurt in his eyes. It was so painfully, horribly obvious that Jason had been a monster to Alfred- the one person in this stupid big family that hadn’t done him wrong.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Alfred leaned in, eyes glistening in the dark. “You could never, ever hurt me.”

“I came back wrong,” Jason started to cry. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to make things right.”

“We’ve all made mistakes, Master Jason,” Alfred brushed his hand through Jason’s curls.

Jason shook his head. “I wanted to hurt Bruce...not you. _Never_ you. You’re the only one who was ever there for me. Who’d ever understood.”

“I let you down,” Alfred sighed. “I was a coward last year. I let Master Bruce’s presumptions guide my own. I hid behind him, thinking it would save me. But all I could think about was that scared little boy I’d caused to die.”

“Alfie,” Jason said, hoarse. “You can’t...You can’t _possibly_ think it was your fault.”

All this time he’d blamed Bruce. Blamed himself. And all this time, Alfred had been shouldering the blame himself...suffering in the dark...

“I could’ve stopped you,” Alfred said. “And had I been there for you...had I been a shoulder for you to lean on, a competent grandfather...you may have trusted me enough to confide in me. To _talk_ to me, about what was going on. What the Joker was threatening to do to your mother. To you.”

“Nothing could’ve stopped it,” Jason said, helplessly. “It was me. All me.”

“No,” Alfred squeezed Jason’s hand. “It was us. Never you. You were just a boy. You’re _still_ a boy.”

“Just not the one you lost,” Jason said.

His lips were trembling. He couldn’t bear to meet Alfred’s gaze any longer; he had to look away. It was all too much at once. The anguish was tearing him in half with no respite. No escape. No remorse.

“You are my grandson,” Alfred spoke, determined. “That will never change.”

Jason laughed a little, tears still streaming down his face. He was watching the curtain blowing in the breeze. “I’ve done terrible things.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“But Bruce…” Jason said, turning back to him. “And Barbara…”

“Are wrong,” Alfred squeezed his hand again. “No matter what they say, the place for you is here. Regardless of what you’ve done. And for everything we have done...I am so, so sorry. It will never be enough, Jason. But I am.”

Jason stared at him for a moment.

And then his walls crashed down.

He began helplessly, silently sobbing, his chin bowed down in defeat, his shoulders hunched. He felt, and looked, like a child. But he hadn’t known how much he’d needed to hear that before now. Didn’t know how much he’d _wanted_ it. All this time he’d been pointing blame, and the family had pointed blame in return. But there it was. That _sorry_. That compromise. That reassurance. That it hadn't been just him. That he wasn’t alone in this. That he wasn’t absolutely, completely losing his mind.

“Oh, my dear boy,” Alfred said, pulling him into his arms. “It’s alright. It’s perfectly alright.”

Alfred held him for a while. And for that long while, the world didn’t matter. Jason’s sins didn’t matter. Black Mask didn’t matter. It was just the two of them. And when Jason pulled away, he felt lighter than he had in a very long time.

“Are you okay, Master Jason?” Alfred asked, watching him intently.

“Honestly, Alfie?” Jason laughed, rubbing at his eyes. “I...I don’t think I am.”

He looked down at his arms. He didn’t know why the lack of injuries still surprised him. But he’d been filled with bullets earlier, and he faintly recalled tugging a whole bunch of tubes from his arms as well…

“I’ve been healing,” he said, eventually. “Haven’t I?”

“That’s the current hypothesis, yes.”

Jason looked up. “Lazarus?”

“We are...unsure,” Alfred spoke. “But I am sure that Master Bruce is working incredibly hard on the task as we speak. They _all_ are.”

Jason looked at the seat Damian had occupied earlier, and rubbed anxiously at his forearms. “Hell of a kid Bruce’s got.”

“Ah, yes,” Alfred sat back in his chair. “Master Damian certainly is...an acquired taste. But you’ll have to forgive his brashness. He shows affection in ways some might find uncanny.”

Jason looked down. “Is it weird? That he reminds me of Talia?”

“Not in the slightest,” Alfred spoke. “They are related, after all. And, in a way, so are you.”

There it was again. That assumption of _family_. Alfred was the only one who'd ever fully earned the title, in Jason’s eyes. But he wasn’t going to argue that point now. He needed to figure out what was wrong with him, and fast. Black Mask wasn’t going to stay in prison forever. And Barbara’s data wasn’t going to stay good for long either…

“Where are they right now?” Jason asked, getting out of bed. “In the Cave?”

“Most of them are, I believe,” Alfred frowned. “But I do hope you’re not hoping to see them now. You need rest, Master Jason. And calm.”

“I think I’ve had enough rest for a lifetime,” Jason argued. “I’m fine. I just...I just need to sort out a few things.”

Alfred gave him a look.

“I’m not going down there to fight, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“It’s not,” Alfred said. “I’m just concerned that being amongst the family right now...might not be the best thing for you.”

“I can’t avoid them, Alfie. I’m in their house.”

“You’re in _your_ house, Master Jason,” Alfred met his eye. “And you have the right to stay or go as you wish.”

“Do I have the right to be kept in the loop, too?” Jason asked. “Or is that an exclusive for the non-murdering members of the family?”

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“I’m sorry, Alfie,” Jason sighed, ashamed. “I just want to know what’s going on.”

“And you shall,” Alfred stood. _“After_ you rest. And eat. And shower.”

“Guurghhh,” Jason sank in the bed.

“You are a gentleman of this house, Master Jason,” Alfred smiled. “And standards need to be met as such.”

“I hate you and your clean ways,” Jason groaned. “Fine. I’ll do all of those things. And _then_ I’ll fight everyone downstairs. How does that sound?”

“Very good, sir,” Alfred said.

He nodded, pressed a kiss to Jason’s forehead, and left. Jason stared vacantly after him, wondering what the fuck he’d just agreed to. From the moment he’d arrived here, all he’d wanted to do was escape. But then he’d spent ten minutes with Alfred.

God. The more things changed, the more they really _did_ stay the same.

-

Jason didn’t feel much better after showering, eating, and resting. But he did _look_ better. He was in a big floppy hoodie, one that probably belonged to Dick. And his hair wasn’t sticking _completely_  on end anymore. It had been so long since he’d taken care of himself like this. He’d been so consumed in his own wars that he’d forgotten what it’d felt like to have _looking okay_ as a priority- and not just _staying alive._

He felt faint as he made his way down to the cave. It’d been so long. Part of him felt like a kid again, padding down to the cave in bare feet and his pyjamas, begging Bruce to let him work on just _one more case_ before bed. The cold air was hauntingly familiar. The echoed voices, too.

“A laptop, Dick? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“It was the right call to make.”

“You gave up our secure line? Access to _all_ of our cases?”

“He had a right to know about them!”

“He’s a criminal, Dick!”

Jason froze at that. He was half-way down the stairs, and his heart was hammering so hard he felt as though his chest was going to shatter.

The family- or, most of it- were crowded around the table in the centre of the cave. Bruce was sitting at the computer, posture tight. He wasn’t in the cowl anymore. Barbara was closest to him, scowling from her wheelchair, her hands clasped and her face red. Opposite her sat Damian, who was either asleep, or pretending to be. Beside him were Cass, Steph, and some dark-haired kid Jason didn’t know. And next to him...was Dick.

He looked so much older up close. Jason had fought him last year, briefly. But he didn’t have the same youthfulness about him that he did when he’d been fighting. Stood in his civvies, he looked exhausted. Desperate. And outraged.

“He’s family,” Dick argued, hands on his hips.

The dark-haired boy crossed his arms. “He’s a murderer. Whether you like it or not, that’s the facts.”

“I’m not condoning everything he’s done,” Dick said. “Killing is wrong. I don’t contest that.”

“Then what are you contesting?” Barbara asked.

“We’ve treated him like shit, guys,” Dick said. “We really, really have.”

“Oh, please,” Barbara said. “I’m not listening to this.”

“How could you turn on him like that?” Dick asked. “Selling him out to Bruce like that? What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that he was in danger,” Barbara snapped. “And that the kids under his so-called ‘protection’ were in danger as well-”

“Do you hear yourself?” Dick snapped. “Are you seriously insinuating that Jason would-”

“He’s not the kid you knew, Dick!” Barbara yelled. “And he’s not the kid _I_ knew. You need to let him go.”

Dick shook his head and paced angry circles around the table. When he stopped, his jaw was tight.

“I can’t let him go,” he said, finally. “He’s my brother. And I love him. I will _always_ love him.”

Barbara looked away, eyes watering.

“I don’t regret giving him access to that laptop any more than you regret giving him that USB drive,” Dick spoke. “He deserves to be kept in the loop. He deserves that chance.”

There was a long pause. After about twenty minutes of silence, made heavy with thought, Steph stuck her hand up. When the group turned to look at her, she lowered it again.

“I hate to be a party-pooper, but…” she grimaced. “Did anyone else hear the door lock go off about half an hour ago?”

The group froze. Jason’s eyes instantly widened as, one by one, they turned to look at him. He didn’t dare move. He _couldn’t,_ somehow. All he could do was stare in horror at the family that had tormented him, one by one, over the past month. The family he'd loathed. The family he'd hated. The family he never thought he'd see again.

“Jason?” Dick asked, face blank with shock. “How long have you been there?”

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thanks for the support so far! keep up the comments and the discussion for more quick updates! i love reading and responding to them all, and i love you!


	6. vi. the cusp of brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family comes clean. Jason talks to Dick about things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy halloween! also, yay for a double update, am I right? keep the discussion goin' in the comments, and I'll keep firing these chapters your way. Also, if you didn't know by now, I love Dick a lot. One day I'm going to become a DC writer and pry Jason and Dick away from Scott Lobdell's horrible wrinkly hands.

By the time Jason remembered how to breathe again, Dick was already halfway up the stairs. His face screamed of desperation, and his arms were spread wide.

“Jason- Listen-” he begged, approaching. “I didn’t- I didn’t want you to see us like this.”

“No,” Jason ignored him. “It’s fine.”

“Jay…” Dick looked like he was about to cry.

“I finally know what you think of me,” Jason stood tall. “Outside of the half-baked proclamations of family and forgiveness. I finally know the truth.”

Barbara’s face hardened. Bruce kept his expression painfully impassive from where he stood, shoulders tight, at the computer. He could go fuck himself. Jason hated him right now. Hated the lot of them.

“You think I’m a murderer. A psychopath,” Jason challenged. “And you know what? You’re right.”

Dick’s face was of anguish. “Jason.”

“No,” Jason walked straight past him. “You know what- you’re totally right. Do you know how many people I’ve killed, Barbara? Would you like to take a guess?”

“Don’t answer,” Bruce’s voice came from a distant corner of the cave.

“Wow. I thought a bit of hypocrisy was missing at the table,” Jason clapped passive aggressively. “Why don’t you come over yourself,Bruce? Why don’t you make a guess?”

“Jason,” Bruce’s voice was almost shaky. “Stop. You’re angry, you’re misunderstanding, and you don’t-”

“I don’t _understand?”_ Jason laughed. “Really? Is that the angle you’re going with, old man?”

Bruce looked away. Jason walked through the group, hands in his pockets.

“You know, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, stopping at the boy with dark hair. “But I think I know who you are. Replacement.”

The boy’s eyes flashed dark. “My name is Tim.”

“Tell me, Tim,” Jason sneered. “Have you ever killed anyone before?”

“Jason,” Bruce warned. “Stop this.”

Jason walked over to Damian. “How about you? You’re Talia’s kid, right? You _must’ve_ killed before.”

Bruce was striding over now. “Stop.”

Damian’s eyes were large, and for the first time appeared vulnerable. “...yes.”

Jason stared him down. “How many?”

“Jason, please,” Barbara said.

“No- I wanna know,” Jason waved her off. “How many?”

Damian stared at a little patch on the floor, shame unmissable.

“Fifty four,” he admitted. “I...I think.”

Steph let out a gasp. Jason whirled on the spot, cackling. He spread his arms wide to Bruce, anger throbbing through his veins like fire. This had been coming for a very long time.

“Fifty-fucking-four!” He roared. “And that’s alright!”

“He was a child, Jay,”’Dick’s voice was soft.

“I don’t give a fuck!” Jason yelled. “I was a child when the Joker beat me to a bloody pulp! Where is my acceptance? My seat at the table?”

“Damian killed against his will. He was brainwashed,” Barbara wheeled towards him. “But you? You just do it voluntarily. For the fun of it.”

“For the-” Jason was speechless. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

Silence. Barbara stared him down, impossibly tense.

“I kill to keep them safe,” Jason hissed. “The kids of this city. The vulnerable. The ones he-” he jabbed a thumb towards Bruce- “won’t protect. Because sometimes it takes more than a beating and a warning to stop some people. Some people, like Black Mask, have eyes and ears everywhere. And no matter who you put away, no matter how many jobs you save the police- there will always be someone still on the payroll. Someone who’ll come back to fight. And once you all go home from patrol, they’re still out there. And did you know what’s when some of them wait to strike? When the sun comes up? When their wounds have finally healed?”

“Everyone deserves a trial,” Tim pointed out. “Even criminals.”

“Even the Joker?” Jason laughed. He pulled down his hoodie to expose his neck. “Even me?”

Bruce’s face cracked with grief. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You could’ve talked to me, Bruce!” Jason screamed. “You could’ve done anything but that! Killed him! Killed me! Anything would’ve been better! But instead you just abandoned me in the motherfucking rubble! Again!”

“That is not what happened,” Bruce said, but his voice was low, so Jason knew he’d hurt him.

Jason turned away. When he turned back once more, Bruce was standing closer to him. His blue eyes were dashed with regret and something Jason couldn’t stomach. Not right now. Not when he’d heard- what he’d heard.

“Jason, I thought you were dead.”  
  
A small laugh left Jason’s lips. “What a relief that must’ve been.”

“No,” Bruce stepped forward. “It wasn’t. It was agony. I- I thought I’d failed you again-”

“And that’s what matters?” Jason snapped. “Your guilt?”

“No,” Bruce’s voice was quiet again. “It isn’t. What matters is you. And that I let you down. That we- all- let you down.”

“S’funny,” Jason took a step back. “If you’d said that to me a year ago, I might’ve believed you. But that was before you slit my fucking throat. Before you left me to die. Before you chose that- that psychopathic piece of garbage- over the life of your so-called son-”

“You are my son!” Bruce yelled.

The cave fell into stunned silence. Even Jason didn’t know how to respond.

“Nothing will change that,” Bruce admitted, eyes low. “No matter what you do. Or what you say. I- I failed you, Jay. I’ve always failed you. And last night- in that warehouse-”

“Don’t,” Jason turned away.

“I thought I’d lost you again.”

“I said- don’t,” Jason hissed. “If you really cared that much about me, if you _really_ wanted me back here- you wouldn’t have fed your family lies about me. You would’ve actually tried to look for me in the year I was missing. You would’ve killed the Joker. You would’ve tried to help me. And you certainly wouldn’t all be damning me behind my back, and spewing false declarations of love to my face-”

“They’re not false, little wing,” Dick said, a little desperately.

“Not from you,” Jason said. “Yet.”

He looked around the circle, pointing at Barbara and Bruce.

“From you,” he said. “And you. I don’t know the rest of you well enough to say I’m betrayed. And honestly- I couldn’t give less of a shit about what you think about me. Just know that I don’t need your help. I’ll _never_ need your help. And I certainly don’t want it.”

Cass stood, shoulders hunched. “Don’t want you to feel alone.”

“Tough shit, Cass,” Jason said. “I’m always alone.”

Dick, who had been sat on the stairs for the past few minutes, finally stood.

“Come on, Jay,” he pleaded. “Let’s get some air.”

Every bone in Jason’s body wanted to resist. But he was tired of sparring, and tired of arguing, and tired of dealing with the bats for a day. So he rose, joining Dick at the top of the stairs, not before calling-

“My number of casualties is forty seven, by the way. In case you’d like to know.”

-

Dick insisted that they get out of the manor, so he drove Jason to a little diner just on the outskirts of Gotham. Jason scowled at the name as they stepped out of the car. He was wearing a pair of Dick’s old shoes, and they were unspeakably uncomfortable. The aura between them was slightly uncomfortable too.

“Janny’s Bagels?” He said. “Really?”

“We needed a change in scenery,” Dick explained.

“No,” Jason snorted. “I’m just- I didn’t take you for a diner guy.”

“Oh, Jay,” Dick’s face was soft. “I’ve always been a diner guy.”

They took a seat in a booth near the back. Dick ordered a milkshake. Jason ordered waffles. And then he watched the window, feet tapping nervously beneath the table, hands jittery despite himself. His nerves felt on edge, like they were only just coming down from the confrontation he’d just experienced. And a large part of him felt like screaming.

“I know it got intense back there,” Dick said. “I’m sorry.”

“S’not your fault,” Jason said.

“You shouldn’t have to put up with it,” Dick clasped his hands together. “I know them, and they’re not always like this. They just don’t know how to act around you. For so long you’ve been a theoretical thing for them. And now you’re here, and everyone’s so torn…”

“Well, I’m sorry I ruined the happy family,” Jason folded the napkin in half, and in half again. “I’ll be out of your hair as soon as possible, ‘kay?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Dick frowned. He reached forward and touched Jason’s hand. “I meant- it’s not always going to be like this. They just need some time.”

“They?” Jason snorted. “What about me?”

“We _both_ need some time,” Dick emphasised. “You need time to heal. And we- we need time to get our head screwed on properly. The way we’ve treated you...it’s just been appalling, Jay. I don’t know what else to say.”

“When did you find out?” Jason asked, watching the table intently. “That it was me, last year? That I was the Red Hood?”

Dick took back the hand and bit his lip. His eyes looked glassy, and very much on the brink of tears.

“Bruce didn’t tell me...at first,” he admitted. “I mean- of course he didn’t. He and Alfred were taking it badly. But- they told me and Tim together. About a month later. Bruce was afraid that you being in Gotham again- and us being there too- would put us in danger. That you were going to- that you could have-”

Jason shook his head. His jaw was trembling slightly.

“I told him he was crazy, of course,” Dick said. “We didn’t talk for a while, after that. I just couldn’t get our fight out of my head. How I’d thought, all of the way through, that something about you was familiar. How I couldn’t forget the first thing I said to you. How I wanted to take it back more than anything in the world.”  
  
“Nice seeing you again,” Jason murmured.

Dick put his head in his hands. “God...I just…I can’t imagine what that must’ve been like for you.”

“It was fine,” Jason said. “Better than Amazo was, I expect.”

Dick smiled a little at that. “That was sort-of genius, you know. Pitting us against him. We weren't expecting it.”

“Thank you,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Finally, someone respects my strategic prowess!”

“You were never the dumbest Robin, Jason,” Dick squeezed his hand. “Not now. Not ever.”

The food came, and Dick let go of the hand to slurp loudly at the milkshake in front of him. Jason sighed at the waffle he was presented with. It looked- (and felt like, much to his dismay) concrete. But Dick looked too mildly happy for Jason to refuse it, so he ate it in disgusted silence. After, he pushed the plate away, and made a face that made Dick bend double in laughter.

“That waffle,” he announced, “was pure shit.”

“Hey,” Dick flushed. “I did tell you to order the pizza.”

“Who the fuck,” Jason scowled, “gets pizza at a _diner?”_

“Me!”

“You don’t count,” Jason threw a napkin at him. “You’re weird.”

“I’m perfectly normal,” Dick rolled his eyes.

Jason crossed his arms on the table. “Your computer programming skills say otherwise.”

Dick’s smile faded. He almost looked embarrassed.

“Listen, Jay, that laptop-” he hunched his shoulders in. “I’ve been thinking about what happened a lot. And I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sent it, I should’ve known it would’ve made you uncomfortable, and I certainly shouldn’t have called like that-”

“Dick,” Jason raised his eyebrows. “Calm down. It’s fine.”

“I was just so worried,” Dick murmured. “And when you hung up…”

Jason grimaced, remembering the little accident he’d had with the sledgehammer.

“It wasn’t anything personal,” he said. “I was just-- having a bad day.”

“That warehouse,” Dick’s eyes flashed up. “It was yours, wasn’t it? What happened?”

“There was a, um,” Jason licked his lips, folding the napkins once more. “Little _mishap_. With some Black Mask thugs.”

“A mishap that ended...in an explosion?”

“Maybe,” Jason said.

“Jay…” Dick closed his eyes. “All of this shit with Black Mask...it has to stop.”

“He’s taking kids, Dick,” Jason hissed- all hilarity forgotten. “I can’t exactly sit and do nothing.”

“You have a bounty on your head,” Dick pressed.

“I’m aware.”

“And last night, his men nearly shot you to death.”

“Gee, Dick! I’m aware of that too!”

“Do you not think that this is way too dangerous for you to deal with at the moment? And a _little_ too close to home?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You went after him last year too,” Dick said. “And it’s opened some very old wounds. I can tell.”

Jason leaned back and let out a sharp sigh. Dick reached for his hands, but Jason pulled away.

“And don’t even get me started on the healing thing,” Dick said. “I mean- do you have any idea of what that could be about? Like, at all?”

“I have an inkling,” Jason said.

“Do you want to share it?”

“Maybe,” Jason leaned forward. “I guess a part of me’s just curious as to why the family cares at all.”

“They want to help,” Dick said. “They don’t show it well. But they do.”

“Or maybe I’m just a curiosity to them,” Jason tilted his head. “You put a whole group of control freaks in a room, and what do you get? A bunch of control freaks that hate not knowing something. That have to analyse, and explain, every little thing. I’m just the latest mystery to wander in. I was one to them a year ago, and I am to them now. The second the mystery was solved- the second they came to a subsequent conclusion about me- I was thrown away like garbage. Like I didn’t matter.”

“And what was that conclusion?”

Jason snorted. “Pit madness.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Jason said. “Pit madness. Bruce put everything I did down to some stupid theory about Lazarus pit mayhem he’d heard Ra’s Al Ghul go through once, and then acted surprised when it was proven false. That I was more than just an innocent ex-boy wonder. That I was killing because I _wanted_ to. Not just because I was angry.”

Dick’s mouth became a hard small line. “Little wing, I don’t know what to say.”

“I don’t expect you to say anything,” Jason shrugged. “I’m right. I know I’m right. And no-one can answer for Bruce’s shitty hypotheses but Bruce.”

“You’ll have to talk to him sometime,” Dick said. “You know that, right?”

Yes. Jason did know it. It didn’t make him happy to...but he did.

“Will you help me?” He said, instead. “With this whole collapsing-healing thing I’ve got going on?”

Dick’s face lightened considerably. “You...you want my help?”

“I need this sorted,” Jason said. What he didn’t say was that he needed it sorted in time to sort out Black Mask. “And I don’t have the resources I need to do it alone.”

“Jay, you know I’d be happy to help,” Dick reached for his hands. “But what about the family?”

Jason shrugged. “What about them?”

“I can’t...it would be hard…” Dick closed his eyes. “It would be hard to do this. Without their intervention. At some stage.”

“Just do your thing, and I’ll do mine,” Jason rolled his eyes. “I’ll give blood tests, interviews, whatever. I just don’t want to be near them any more than I have to, okay?”

“Okay,” Dick said. “I...I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Jason nodded to himself. Okay. He could do this.

“In the meantime...I’m so glad to have you back, little wing,” Dick squeezed his hands. “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Jason smiled, looking away. “Me too.”


	7. vii. truth in the fog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim confronts Jason. Things start to change.

A week soared by.

Whilst the family minded their own business, Jason did the same. He moved to a new safehouse, one further from the heart of Gotham. And when he wasn’t sending various DNA samples to Dick, he was working on his plan to take Black Mask down. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but his recent...condition had changed things. He may have been able to withstand insane amounts of damage due to whatever was wrong with him, and he also may have had substantial healing abilities...but they left him unconscious, and vulnerable, for hours on end. It wasn’t worth the trade off. _Especially_ on bat territory.

Jason felt on edge at every waking moment he spent in the city, because he was never quite sure when they were going to pop up again, spewing lies and garbage about guilt and truth and trust. But they didn’t. And part of Jason was satisfied at that. He’d said all he needed to say. He’d left things on a note that he could live with. But the rest of him was disappointed. He didn’t know why. Maybe the idea of belonging to something, no matter how small the likeliness of it coming true, had started to appeal to him. Maybe he couldn’t get the image of Damian’s face as he’d uttered his kill count out of his head. And maybe, just maybe, there was a little bit of truth in what Cass had said to him. That she didn’t want him to be alone.

And maybe...Jason didn’t want to be either.

Dammit. He’d gotten too used to being surrounded by people recently. The newfound silence was comforting and disconcerting all at once. He needed to get back in the game. Back to being Red Hood again. But Dick was right. Going out as the Red Hood right now in his current condition- even on patrol- was risky. The bounty on his head made everything worse.

Jason was debating whether Bruce felt guilty enough about the whole situation to pay the bounty off when there was a knock on his window.

It was one week and one day since he’d been at the Manor. Instantly, his instincts told him to reach for the gun resting on the kitchen counter, and so he did. This was supposed to be a secret place. A _safe_ place. And he swore to God if one more person shot him this month, he would absolutely lose it…

He edged to the window, pointed his gun to the glass, and swore.

The dark haired boy was perched atop the apartment’s fire escape. His replacement. _Tim._ He was in a ridiculous red and black costume, and his expression was awkward.

As Jason lowered his gun, Tim knocked again.

Jason opened the window. “What?”

“I just wanna talk,” Tim said. Rain was lashing down his face.

“How did you get this address?”

“I saw you.”

“What?”

“I _saw_ you,” Tim sighed. “Listen, I wasn’t stalking or anything. I was on patrol, I saw you visit the grocery store, and I saw you come here. It’s no biggie.”

“It’s no biggie? _Seriously?”_ Jason scowled. “Does Daddy Bat know you’re here?”

“No,” Tim frowned. “No-one does. This place is completely safe, I promise. I just want to talk.”

Jason crossed his arms. He had half a mind to push this stupid kid from the fire escape, what with the shit he pulled last week...

“Also, I have some news from Dick?” Tim grimaced. “About...some kind of test?”

Jason groaned. “I thought he wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

“I don’t know what it’s about,” Tim held his hands up. “I promise. He just gave me a box, made me swear not to open it, and since I said I’d seen you the other day he figured that I could just drop it off at your place and-”

“Oh my fucking God,” Jason said. “You people are infuriating.”

He opened the window anyway. It would do him no favours if any Black Mask informants saw bats hanging around this place. Tim slid in, dripping everywhere, and Jason let out a sigh. This was just a safehouse to him, but he’d just cleaned that floor…

“Sorry,” Tim said. His feet were squeaking. “Have you lived here long?”

“None of your business.”

“O..kay,” Tim put his hands behind his back. “It’s a nice place.”

Jason shut the window, crossed his arms, and glared at him.

“Okay,” Tim deflated. “I know...I might have been a bit harsh on you last week.”

“You called me a murderer.”

“You are a murderer,” Tim said. “I wasn’t lying. Those are...the facts. I mean...you’ve killed people. That makes you a murderer.”

“And when police kill?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Does that make them murderers too?”

“I…” Tim scowled at the floor.

“How about that Damian kid? Is he a murderer in your eyes?”

“He used to be? I guess?” Tim shrugged. “I don’t know. We don’t really get on all that well.”

Jason laughed at that. “And that makes him a murderer.”

“No- it’s just-” Tim looked at the floor. “It’s different. When you don’t know someone, it’s easier to come to an uninformed conclusion. Your thoughts and ideas are based on one thing- and that’s your assumption. But when you get to know someone…”

He made a gesture with his hands. Jason sat on the arm of the sofa, unimpressed.

“So this is what this is all about,” he said. “You want to _get to know me.”_

“Not exactly,” Tim vaulted onto the sofa opposite. “It’s just...okay. How about this. When I became Robin…”

Jason flinched.

Tim’s mouth became a small line. He fumbled with his hands.

“Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best place to start,” he admitted. “But when I.. _.you know._ You were all I ever used to hear about.”

Jason rolled his eyes and plopped himself fully into his own sofa. “Bruce’s guilt: the sequel. Great.”

“No, it’s not that,” Tim pressed. “You were always _my_ Robin, you know? I know how dumb that sounds out loud. But you were this...idol. This god. You could never do anything wrong. And I went wrong a lot at first. A _lot.”_

He rubbed at his arms. Jason realised for the first time that Tim looked incredibly, incredibly nervous.

“And I didn’t know you personally, so this idea of you...became my uninformed conclusion. The only thing I could see you as was this _perfect standard._ The hero...I always wanted to be.”

Jason hunched his shoulders in. He was suddenly hit with the urge to cry. “Go on.”  
  
“So, a few years pass,” Tim said. “You come back from the dead, the shit last year goes down. And suddenly, I’m told- or I’m shown- that you’re not the person I thought you were. You’re not some untouchable self-sacrificing idol. You’re a person. A person that kills. And I- I started to realise that everything I thought might’ve been wrong. So I tell myself that you’re a villain now. That you’re evil. Because that’s easier. And I always thought it was. Because then...I didn’t lose anything. I was just tricked, you know? Or betrayed?”

Jason nodded. Tim pressed his knees together, evidently anxious. Jason could already tell that this story- whatever it’s end- was going to take a toll on the both of them.

“But then last week happened,” Tim shrugged. “And I saw you, and I tried to confront you, and you spoke so clearly, I just...everything changed. And you were neither the god _or_ the villain to me anymore. The...walls...the misconceptions...the way the family saw you...they suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Because I realised that you were a real person that I had just been pushing fantasies onto all this time. Because it was easier than admitting that my family could’ve made...such big mistakes. Than they could ever turn on their own. That I’d failed to become as great as the kid I’d grown up wanting to be.”

He rubbed his palms together. Jason’s face and mind felt blank. What was he supposed to say to that? He didn’t think anyone had ever idolised him. Or thought this much about him. Dead _or_ alive.

“So I guess I’ve come to ask…” Tim put on a little smile. “Who are you, Jason Todd?”

Jason smirked a little at that. And then his smirk fell, and he put his fingers through his hair with sudden agitation.

“I don’t...know, who I am,” he admitted. “I thought I did. But, with all that’s happened...I don’t.”

Tim watched him for a while. And then he nodded, grey eyes dulled with thought. Jason bit his lip and looked down.

“I’m sorry I don’t have a better answer for you,” Jason said.

“It’s okay,” Tim rubbed at his neck. “Honestly- it’s okay. I just wanted to let you know that- I didn’t mean what I said last week. Or, at least, I don’t mean it. Anymore.”

“It’s okay,” Jason let out a huff.

“I mean…” Tim looked anxious to fill the silence. “I used to think this same shit about Damian. It was real hard when he arrived. I mean, I guess things were hard for him too, being an assassin and all. But I learned with time that he wasn’t just that, you know? That he was _more._ I mean, we still don’t get on that much, but...”

“You understand it,” Jason pressed. “And accept him anyway.”

“I think because he’s so young everyone found it easier to stomach,” Tim admitted. “What he’d done in the past. And what he continues to do. His indoctrination...his childhood…”

Jason stood up. “My death...my life…”

Tim’s face was stricken. “They’ll come around, Jason.”

“I don’t care what they do,” Jason walked to the sink. “Honestly. I don’t.”

“You let me in, though,” Tim said. “That means you must care. At least a little.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Jason turned on the tap. “They’re beyond caring about me.”

“I’m not,” Tim rose. “And I know that I’m much more of a fanboy than I am a brother to you. And that I have a lot to apologise for. But I _do_ want to know you, Jason. And I do want to help you. If you’ll let me.”

Jason didn’t reply. He was filling the kettle and trying very hard not to let his panic show.  
  
“And I know Dick still wants to be close to you,” Tim continued. “Cass is desperate to have another brother. And Barb...Barb is dealing with a lot of things right now. But Steph and Bruce want to try, and…”

“I think that’s enough now,” Jason said, trying his hardest to keep his voice neutral. “Do you have the thing Dick sent?”

Tim’s voice was hestitant. “...Of course. Yeah. It’s...I’ve got it here.”

“Leave it on the sofa,” Jason said. He was staring at the wall above the kitchen sink. The kettle was growing heavier and heavier in his hand.

“Did I say something wrong?” Tim asked. Jason heard him take a step closer. “Because if I did, I’m sorry.”

A few seconds passed, and Tim was still standing there, probably looking just as hopeless as Jason felt.

“I just don’t deal well with this shit,” Jason hissed. “Okay? I may act like I do, but I don’t.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tim sounded confused. “What was it specifically? Was it the mention of the family- or the other stuff- or-”

“I’m fine,” Jason bowed his head.

“Oh God,” Tim took a step closer. “It was the shit about you caring, wasn’t it?”

“Tim,” Jason said. “Stop.”

“Okay,” Tim sighed. “I’m sorry. I just- I have problems with boundaries, sometimes.”

“Okay,” Jason said, turning. “And now I’m telling you that this is mine. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

Tim was already halfway to the window.

“I’m going to leave now,” he said. “Since I know you’re probably about to ask me to, and I don’t want to hurt you more than I probably already have. But it was really nice talking to you, Jason. Really.”

Jason nodded absently. He turned off the tap and pressed his eyes firmly shut.

“And just...just so you know,” Tim had one leg out of the window. “It’s okay to want a family again. And it’s okay to deserve one. Even if you think you don’t- you probably do.”

When Jason looked up, Tim was gone. He put the kettle down. Walked to the sofa. Looked at the USB drive Tim had left on the sofa, and then at the puddles scattered across the floor. And then he’d thought about what he’d said. About having a family again. _Deserving_ one.

And then he collapsed in a fit of tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note: i love tim.  
> also, if you want more frequent updates, leave comments! I love reading and replying to them all. also, having my work critiqued and discussed is one of my favourite things in the world. i don't get to do it often, so i'd love to do it here. what would you like to see in this fic? what's been your favourite part so far? what did you think of the chapter? etc etc etc :D
> 
> (also, i changed my username. don't be alarmed, it is still redlikehellfire! just- a little less intense. and a little more poetic c:)


	8. viii. green damnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Damian clear the air. Jason reaches out to Talia.

_VOICEMAIL RECEIVED: SIX HOURS AGO_

“Hey Jay. It’s Dick. Just wondering if you’d gotten time to go over the test results Tim sent over. Hope everything’s okay. There’s no pressure to go over them if you don’t want to just yet. Just let me know.”

_VOICEMAIL RECEIVED: FOUR HOURS AGO_

“Hey. Jason. It’s Dick. Wondering again about those test results. Get back to me soon, okay?”

\--FIVE MISSED CALLS FROM: (DICK)--

_VOICEMAIL RECEIVED: ONE HOUR AGO_

“Jay. Dick here. I know you usually never reply to these things, but please do if you can. Tim just finished patrol, and told me about your conversation. He said you sounded pretty rattled. I don’t know what he said to you exactly, but please answer if you’ve received this. I’m getting worried.”

\--SEVEN MISSED CALLS FROM: (DICK)--

_VOICEMAIL RECEIVED: TEN MINUTES AGO_

“Jason. I’m on my way over. Tim only told me where you were so that I can check on you. I’m sorry if nothing’s up, I really am. I just can’t get the events of last week and last year out of my head. Please respond to this if you can before I get there. I’m sorry.”

-

“Jason?”

“Jason!”

“Robin, help me get him onto the sofa real quick,” Dick’s voice filtered through Jason’s ears softly, but soundly. “No- I don’t want you to slap him. Just help me get him up there. Okay? Okay.”

“Jason? Can you hear me? Jason?”

“What the fuck, Dick,” Jason growled, hiding his face from view. “S’bright.”

“Sorry,” Dick’s expression was panicked above Jason’s head. “We turned your lights on.”

“We?” Jason repeated. _“We?”_

He turned, and of course, a few centimetres to his right, Damian was stood there, scowling at him. He was in his Robin gear again, and somehow managing to look exceptionally intimidating and sulky at once. He reminded Jason of Talia so much it hurt. Which wasn’t surprising. Because most things related to Talia tended to hurt.

“Take it easy, Jason,” Dick squatted beside him. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

“What the fuck happened?” Jason scowled, sitting up. “Why are you here?”

“I left you voicemails, but you didn’t reply,” Dick said, desperately. He was wearing his Nightwing outfit, and since Jason hadn’t seen it since last year, it was giving him visions of that confrontation he really didn’t want to recall… “We were really worried.”

“God, Dick,” Jason rubbed his head. “You know I don’t _reply_ to my voicemails.”

He knew it had been a mistake to give Dick his phone number. He’d agreed last week, because Dick sounded desperate about sending him updates on their little investigation and Jason didn’t want to let him down. But now...Dick was turning clingy. Jason wasn’t sure if it was desperation, over-protection, or guilt. But Dick’s massive sense of responsibility had always felt smothering to Jason, even as a kid. But on top of everything else he was dealing with...he wasn’t sure if he had the stomach for it anymore.

“I know, but…” Dick frowned. “I left the first one six hours ago. Surely you at _least_ saw the notification.”

“I did,” Jason said. “And I ignored it.”

“And the rest?”

“I…” Jason stopped rubbing his head to scowl at Dick again. “There were _more?”_

Damian reappeared into Jason’s view, this time holding the shattered remains of his teacup. “Nightwing. I believe I’ve found the culprit.”

“Ah, shit,” Jason said.

“Jay?” Dick looked between him and the teacup. “What did you do?”

“There’s more broken fragments in the kitchen,” Damian spoke, matter-of-factly. “And...the floor is wet.”

“I was trying to make myself a goddamn cup of tea, alright?” Jason closed his eyes. “But I was shaking. It was hard. I might’ve dropped it.”

“Where?” Dick asked, looking him over. “Where did you drop it?”

“Stop babysitting me, okay?” Jason snapped. “Just...over my arms and shit. But it’s fine now, see?”

He held out his arms, which were bare, and unsurprisingly intact.

“I’m magical now. So I’m healed,” Jason tucked his arms back in. “And you don’t have to worry anymore. You can go back to your...happy mansion. Or whatever.”

“It’s a Manor,” Damian informed. “And it certainly isn’t ‘happy’.”

“Whatever, short stuff,” Jason rolled his eyes. “Can you get out of my _secret_ safehouse now? Please? Emphasis on the word _secret?”_

“We’re not going until we’re sure you’re alright,” Dick sat on the sofa beside him. “How long were you out for?”

“Dunno,” Jason closed his eyes. “Was about...nine...when Tim left.”

“It’s one a.m. now,” Dick pressed a gloved hand to Jason’s forehead. “Your temperature seems okay. Do you want me to run bloods?”

“Dick,” Jason scowled. “What the fuck?”

Dick let out an exasperated sigh. “Did you even read the files I sent you?”

“I was unconscious, Grayson!” Jason hissed. “How was I supposed to read it? _Telepathically?”_

“Nightwing believes,” Damian said, arms crossed, “that you may be suffering from a further side-effect of the lazarus pit. Some sort of _post-lazarus_ regeneration.”

“What?” Jason sat up fully then. His head was thumping, and he was pretty sure half of his curls were lying flat.

“It…” Damian cleared his throat. “It happens when parts of the healing effects of the Lazarus pit remain in the bloodstream after the initial resurrection. It’s happened before.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know about this?”

“As I said,” Damian’s mouth went small. “It’s happened before.”

“Damian grew up around those pits,” Dick said, a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “He knows the signs better than most.”

“So-” Jason sipped in a breath. “Let me get this straight. Other people have passed out like this after being thrown in the pit? Like, what- _Ra’s_ or something?”

“My grandfather isn’t prone to fainting, Todd,” Damian scowled. He crossed his arms. “The other _victims_ of this affliction used the pit behind his back.”

Jason tried to ignore the implication that he was a victim, and focused instead on keeping his breathing steady. He really hadn’t wanted to bring Talia into all of this. But now, it seemed, he had no choice.

“So they…” He tried to think. “These side-effects...they’re not meant to happen. And Talia knew this? And dunked me in there anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Damian’s cheeks flushed red. “I didn’t...I didn’t even know until recently. That she was the one who brought you back.”

Great. Good old Bruce- keeping secrets from everyone and anyone.

 _God._ Times like this made Jason want to break his nose. _More_ than usual.

“We can’t point fingers just yet,” Dick said, voice soft.

“She’s the one who resurrected me, Dick. She’s the one who brought me back into this world, filled me up with hate and trained me and-” Jason put his hand on his head. “Now this. Now this...sickness. It’s all her.”

Damian turned away, and Jason instantly felt guilty about what he’d said. But there was no taking it back- for in a way, it was true, and there was nothing Damian could do to deny it.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, eventually.

“Yes,” Damian nodded. “You did.”

Jason stared at the floor. How had he allowed himself to get in this position? How had he allowed himself to care? Last month he would never have even thought about sitting in the same room as Bruce’s stupid colony of bats, let alone _talking_ to them. And then there was this. This...sickness. This healing. It was all too much to handle. He never should’ve come back to Gotham.

“The year I was gone,” Jason said, trying to lift Damian’s spirits, “I was with her.”

“What?” Dick said. Damian looked up, scowling. “Talia?”

“Yes,” Jason clasped his hands. “No- Dick- it wasn’t like _that._ I would _never._ She’s always been a mentor to me. And- I hate to admit it but-”  
  
“A sort of mother?” Damian asked.

Jason nodded. He suddenly felt incredibly, intensely uncomfortable. Why had he brought this up again?

“And?” Damian said. “Where is she now? How was she?”

Dick made a sympathetic face. “Dami hasn’t seen his mother in years. Not since...she dropped him off here.”

“I know,” Jason said. “I’m sorry. Last I heard she was on the outskirts of Qatar. But I don’t know about now.”

Damian bowed his head.

“But she seemed good,” Jason offered. “Well, I mean. _Focused.”_

“As my mother always is,” Damian said, and took a seat on the sofa opposite them. “What did you do there?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Dick consoled.

“No, it’s- it’s alright.” Jason met Damian’s eye contact. Or, at least he _thought_ he did. With the scary domino masks on, it was pretty hard to tell. “I was recovering, mostly. I was a wreck when I left Gotham. She gave me the finest rooms in her base to lay low in.”

“And then she trained you?” Damian asked. He seemed genuinely curious.

“Yeah,” Jason itched the back of his neck. “I think I actually helped _train_ some of her assassins.”

“Sounds like her,” Damian smiled. “Nothing for free.”

“Yeah,” Jason looked away. “And after that...I worked a bit, started gathering intel, and left. I couldn’t really stay with her too long. After the pit, and everything...there just wasn’t that trust anymore.”

“But still,” Dick mused. “You trusted her more than us.”

“Dick,” Jason protested. “Of _course_ I did. She’s the only one who remotely _tried_ to help me after my resurrection.”

Dick looked as though he wanted to protest, but didn’t. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms.

“But we’re helping you now,” Damian stated. He sounded confused, like Bruce often did, when he asked a question but, for some reason, phrased it like a statement.

“Yeah,” Jason put his hands together. “I guess you are. So what now?”

Dick gnawed at his lip, and even Damian seemed unsure.

“I don’t know,” Dick said. “I’m going to do some digging. Find out what I can about this lazarus stuff.”

“As will I,” Damian said, proudly.

“But I’m gonna need you to stay here for a bit, okay?” Dick reached for Jason’s arm. “Just for a little bit. I know you’ve probably got plans and an urge to run, and I get that. But I need you to be in arm’s reach if I find anything out, or if anything happens. And I need you to hold off from contacting Talia.”

Jason opened his mouth. “How did you know I was going to-”

“I _know_ you, Jason,” Dick said. He squeezed the arm. “Do you promise me?”

“What?” Jason said, laughing.

“Do you promise me,” Dick spoke, deadly serious, “that you won’t run? Just while we sort things out?”

“Yeah,” Jason shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”

“Pinky swear?” Dick pushed.

“Oh my fucking _God,_ Dickie,” Jason shoved him away. “Is he always this annoying?”

“Yes,” A small smile was tugging at Damian’s mouth. “Don’t worry, Todd. It never changes.”

-

It took Jason all of two hours to go back on his promise.

He didn’t want to. He _had_ to. He got a message from one of his Black Mask informers that there was a plan to get Black Mask out of prison soon- and there was no way Jason could let that happen. He had to get to him first.

The return of Black Mask would put a lot of people in danger- least of all Jason. And there was no way in Hell that he wasn’t going to get in contact with Talia first. If he was going to take out Black Mask, he needed to know that whatever was wrong with him wasn’t going to kill him. Before, at least. After? Well, as long as the kids under Black Mask’s wing were safe, he didn’t really care about _after._

He walked to one of his garage safehouses, unchained the fastest motorbike he had there, and dialled Talia’s number whilst he wheeled it out. She answered on the fourth ring.

“Lamb,” she greeted. “I did not think you would ring so soon.”

“Well, I’m sorry I let you down” Jason rolled his eyes.

He could almost hear her smiling through the phone. “What’s wrong?”

“Uh,” Jason dusted off the seat of his motorbike. “Who said anything’s wrong?”

“You are contacting me,” Talia mused. “You never contact me.”

“Is that it?”

“Well,” Talia admitted. “You do have a bounty on your head.”  
  
“You know about that?”

“Lamb,” Talia’s voice was soft. “Do you really think I wouldn’t keep tabs on you after you left?”

“No,” Jason sighed. “But I hoped you wouldn’t.”  
  
“So,” Talia said. “What is it? It can’t be that you need assistance with this Black Mask matter. He is no match for you.”

“I know that,” Jason closed his eyes. “It’s just-”

“Speak up,” Talia said. “Are you wearing that helmet again? You know, I can never hear you under it. It muffles everything.”

“It’s a _hood,_ ” Jason said, and in the same breath- “I think I’m having side effects from the Lazarus pit.”

There was a pause. Jason could almost feel Talia _thinking_ over the phone.

“For how long?” She asked. “And what?”

“Uh,” Jason looked around him. “About a month. And...uh...I pass out? Whenever I get hurt? And when I wake up, I’m healed?”

“No matter the hurt?”

“Yeah,” Jason crossed his arms. “I, uh, kind of got shot to pieces last week. And I’ve got no scars. Nothing.”

“Jason,” Talia’s voice turned sharp. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I’ve been dealing with a lot of things at the moment!” Jason hissed. “And, I don’t know if you know, but I’ve got a bit of a bat problem?”

“I told you it was too soon to return to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well,” Jason put a hand on his hip. “It’s done now. So tell me. Have you heard about this Lazarus thing or not?”

A silence. Talia sighed.

“You are what we call a _half-soul,”_ she said. “It’s a phenomenon- or side-effect, rather- of the Lazarus pit. When the healing waters remain in your blood...it becomes a part of you. And it will do anything to protect you and your body from harm.”

“What, like, knock me out?” Jason felt like laughing.

“The fainting is a part of that,” Talia spoke. “The ordinary human body is not geared towards such...drastic physical changes. It struggles to find the energy involved. So, you must be unconscious in order for the process to work.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

“It has happened before.”

“You don’t say,” Jason leaned against his bike. “So, what, is there a cure to this? Any way to make it stop?”

“You wish it to stop?” She sounded alarmed.

“Talia,” Jason stated. “Fainting everytime I get hurt. It isn’t ideal.”

“But you cannot be hurt, in doing so,” Talia said. “Is that not a fair trade?”

“I can’t do what I do, effectively, if I faint every time I take a bullet. Or a punch. Or a bruise.”

“Then perhaps you should stop doing it,” Talia spoke, “and leave it to others.”

“Are you crazy? I- that’s-”

“Lamb, this is a gift.” Talia’s voice was warm, and that’s how Jason knew the conversation- at least about that- was over. “Treat it as such.”

“Or?”

“Or?” She repeated. “There is no ‘or’. Until the symptoms subside- if they subside- you have no choice but to accept your new abilities. They are a part of you now.”

“A part of you _you put there,”_ Jason was feeling catty, so he couldn’t help but add- “Damian says hi, by the way.”

“He does?” Talia paused. “How...is he?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Jason snapped. “Why don’t you talk to him yourself?”

He knew damned why she didn’t. Because she was a hypocrite. She refused to stop her work in order to make her life safe enough for her son- but she requested that Jason stop his, in order to let others take his place? What kind of garbage was that?

“Goodnight, Jason,” Talia said, voice strict. “I hope you find what you are looking for.”

“Talia- wait- Talia-” Jason cried. But the line was dead before he could get another word in sideways. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

He tried calling again, but there was no answer- and on the fourth ring it became painfully clear that she’d blocked the number.

“Fuck,” he said, into the night air.

It was ridiculously cold, he’d had no luck, and he was about to break a promise he’d made with one of the only people still willing to support him. Great.

“Jason,” a voice said, from in front of him. “Is that you?”

Jason looked up, and- just because fate really wanted to fuck him over tonight- Bruce Wayne was standing a few metres away.

He was in a ridiculously expensive-looking coat, his car was shimmering in the dark, and his hair was molded in a ridiculously smooth wave. As a kid, Jason had always mocked Bruce’s hair, and the fact that it had always reminded him of some old 1940s movie. But now, Jason hated it. He hated it like he hated everything about Bruce. Because half of him wanted to fill his face with lead, and the other just wanted his dad. And the conflict was horrifying.

“You can’t be here,” is what Jason said first. His initial thought went to Black Mask seeing Red Hood and Bruce Wayne interacting in public- and what the consequences would be. And then, he thought of his night’s plans, and the fact that each moment he wasted, Black Mask was one step closer to getting away...

“Are you...going somewhere?” Bruce asked, frown deepening.

“It’s none of your fucking _business_ what I’m doing, Bruce,” Jason mounted the bike, and revved the engine twice. “Move.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“You need to move,” Jason said. “Because if you don’t, you and that car are history.”

Bruce’s face fell even further, if possible- as if the idea of Jason killing was an entirely new concept to him.

“Please,” he said. Hands in the air.

He looked so pitiful in that moment that Jason couldn’t help but remember their fight. On the rooftops, a year ago. Where Bruce had seen Jason, face to face, for the first time in years. Where everything had changed. They were no longer just rivals for Gotham’s soul. They were no longer Batman vs the latest big crook.

They were Bruce and Jason. Mentor and student. Father and son.

For some reason Jason wanted to revisit that. He wanted to hear what Bruce had to say, even if it was more pleading and begging and condescending horseshit. Because at least then, he would know for sure. He could say he’d given them every possible chance to shoot themselves in the foot before he walked away. Because one thing was for sure. After this Black Mask shit was over- Jason was never returning to Gotham. Not even for Dick, or Damian, or Tim, or Cass, or Alfred. And the main reason was standing right in front of him.

“You have two minutes,” he said, getting off the bike. “Go.”


	9. ix. of masks and men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce returns. Shit hits the fan.

At first Bruce looked as though he didn’t know what to do, which was strange, because Bruce always knew what to do. He always had a plan, but in front of Jason, and this situation, any plans he may have had were quickly unravelling. He let out a short breath. Then, he reached into his trench coat pocket, retrieved a small remote, and pressed the button on it. Behind them, the car roared away, leaving Bruce completely stranded.

Then, he took a few steps towards Jason. Jason instinctively flinched, uncertain of where this was going.

“That’s close enough,” he said.

Bruce stopped walking. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. It almost looked like he was malfunctioning.

“What part of _two minutes_ don’t you understand, Bruce?” Jason said. He crossed his arms.

Bruce’s eyes filled with grief. He dipped his head beneath the streetlights. He looked so old now. Older than Jason could ever have imagined him to be, this close up. It was funny. In the cave and on the field, he’d always appeared different to Jason. Stronger. But now all of his lies had blown up in his face, Jason was seeing a different part of Bruce Wayne. One that had nowhere to run.

“I don’t know...what you want me to say,” Bruce said, eventually. “What you’d be _comfortable_ with me saying.”

“There’s nothing you can say to me that hasn’t been said to me before,” Jason held his arms wide. “I’ve been hurt in nearly every way possible, Bruce. Take your best shot.”

“Jason, I don’t want...I’ve never wanted...to hurt you.”

Jason cackled.

“I know,” Bruce admitted. “You can laugh. It _is_ laughable.”

Bruce took a seat atop an overturned tire, and put his hands on his lap. He looked so out of place there Jason could’ve started laughing all over again. But Bruce was holding back from something. He could tell. The bomb was on the tip of his tongue, and he was doing his very, very best to dance around it…

“Go on,” Jason said.

“I’ve treated you terribly,” Bruce said. “We all have.”

Jason crossed his arms. “Oh, no. I’m not falling for this one again. The _I’ve done wrong, but in five minutes I’ll turn it around to be all about you_ argument. Tried and tested, old man. Tried and tested.”

“There’s no argument,” Bruce said. “That’s it. That’s the truth of it.”

Jason tilted his head, curious. What was Bruce playing at here? There had to be a catch here, somewhere. There _had_ to be.

“We’ve treated you like a criminal for so long,” Bruce said, helplessly. _“_ And you deserve to know why.”

Jason’s heart started to thump. “Go on.”

“I could dress it up, Jason,” Bruce looked straight at him. “But the truth of it is- it was _easy._ It was easier to dismiss you as just another petty thug. Even when we knew who you were.”

He looked out into the road. Beyond them, Gotham’s nightlife was slowly shuddering awake. There were beeps of horns, flickering lights, barks of dogs. But Jason couldn’t focus on any of it. His life, his oxygen, his whole world- was contained within that alley.

“I’ve been thinking about everything for a while,” Bruce said. “How to address this. How to even _begin_ to say I’m sorry. For last year. For everything before and after it. Hell, for last week. But there’s no way. There’s no way to make you believe. And to be honest, Jason, I don’t think you should.”

“Why did you come here, then?” Jason felt faint. “Why stop me? Why tonight?”

“Because you need to hear it all the same,” Bruce said. “You need to know that you were right.”

Jason swayed. “Excuse me?”

“We’re never going to agree on most things, Jason,” Bruce clasped his hands together. “There’s no arguing with that fact. We’re on different paths now, and we have been for a long time.”

Jason nodded. His jaw felt very very tight.

“But last year...with the Joker...and now…” Bruce looked away. “You were right to shut me out. Shut _us_ out. We didn’t deserve you then, and we don’t deserve you now. You were a slap to the face to us. For the first time in a long while, our flaws were exposed... _my_ flaws were exposed...and we lashed out because of it. We attacked. Because the truth was too much to take.”

Jason put his hands on his hips, and traced a very small circle on the ground with one of his feet. He was trying to keep his cool. And failing.

“I should’ve looked out for you, Jason. From the start, I should’ve done more. When you died...I would’ve done anything to save you. And I still would. But I’ve failed to prove that, time and time again. And I’ve made so many mistakes...there’s no way you could ever even begin to process them. Let alone _forgive_ them.”

“Bruce, I don’t-” Jason’s throat fogged with the threat of a sob. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m saying that this is on me,” Bruce said. “All of this. The fault is mine.”

“Are you _serious_ right now?” Jason said. Tears were running beneath his helmet. “This has never been about guilt, Bruce. I don’t- I’ve never blamed you for letting me die. Or for what happened to me afterwards. You didn’t make me. You just betrayed me. Last year...everything with the Joker...God, Bruce...you broke me. You slit my throat. You left me...left me to die...all over again. With _him._ And I don’t know- I’ll never understand- why you thought I deserved that. What I did that was so _wrong_ to you. Was it the fact that I used to be Robin? That I used to be so good and true and perfect? Or- or was it the fact that  I wasn’t a _blood relation,_ like Damian, or _young enough,_ like Steph, or _redeemable,_ like Dick or Barb-”

“Jason.” Bruce said. His eyes were suddenly wide. “Get-”

“What?”

Bruce shot up, a hand outstretched...but it was already too late.

There was a weird feeling of pressure against Jason’s neck, and then nothing. The world started moving in slow motion. He realised that someone had injected him with something- a dart, perhaps- and now his world was starting to sink and fade. He stumbled, trying to reach for his gun, but his arms and legs were impossibly numb, and his thoughts were already escaping him...

He looked up, gasping at Bruce. Bruce was staggering, having torn the dart out of his own neck, trying in vain to reach Jason in time- but there was nothing he could do. Jason watched his father fall down in a crumpled, graceless heap. And then he did the same.

-

When Jason woke up, the world was shaking.

It took him a moment to realise that that was because he was in a van, and not because he’d been drugged. Well- he’d been drugged too. He knew the feeling of dampness that took over him as he came to his senses all too well. What he wasn’t used to was being tied up. There were at least six inches of rope on him, binding his arms backwards, and keeping him immobile in the back of the van.

And _shit._ His helmet was gone. His weapons, too. Whoever had taken them knew what they were doing.

Wait.

_Them._

Jason wriggled, looking for Bruce. He couldn’t see him anywhere. Then again, the van was pitch black, and silent aside from the bumps and jostles of the van as it moved. But it wasn’t until he heard a muted groan from behind him that he realised what the situation truly was.

He and Bruce were tied back to back- their arms pressed together, and their legs facing opposite directions. Those were bound of well, of course. But Bruce didn’t seem- or sound- awake. Jason writhed, trying in vain to wake him. It must’ve been a pretty strong sedative if it’d managed to take Batman out. The amount of toxins Bruce was immune to by now was horrifying.

“Bruce,” Jason hissed, heart thumping. “Bruce! Wake up!”

The van went over a rough speed bump, and Bruce slowly came to his senses, shaking his head all the while. When he turned his head to try and look at Jason, he felt it.

“...Jay?” He asked, voice groggy.

“Bruce,” Jason said. “We’ve been taken. I think- I think my identity is compromised. Maybe yours too.”

Bruce didn’t reply, and Jason felt his head slump forwards. Shit.

“Bruce!” Jason hissed. “You need to stay awake!”

Bruce’s head snapped up. “...Jason?”

“Yes,” Jason said. “It’s me. Do you remember what I told you?”

“We’ve been taken,” Bruce said, voice clearing. He looked from side to side. “Your helmet…”

“It’s gone,” Jason breathed. “Shit. They must’ve sneaked up on us when we were in the alley. I had my defences down, I had no idea…Shit.”

“Jason,” Bruce’s voice was oddly calm. “It will be fine.”

“Fuck,” Jason hissed. “This is just great. This is just...fucking... _peachy.”_

“I have reserve gadgets all over me,” Bruce said. “It will be fine.”

Jason pursed his lips. He hated this feeling of being helpless. It had followed him all through his life, and now, just when he’d started to forge his own path....it was here again. He didn’t know if he could trust Bruce enough to do what needed to be done. Having him here- now- was quite possibly the worst outcome Jason could’ve expected.

“Any idea of who?” Bruce was wriggling behind him.

How he sounded so calm at a time like this was beyond Jason. Then again, he didn’t know why it was. In another life, Bruce would’ve been the perfect person to have along at a time like this. In a way it felt like one of their capers. Batman and Robin, on another adventure.

But this wasn’t the same. Not by a long shot. Not in terms of armory, not in terms of trust, and definitely not in terms of moral. This wasn’t Batman and Robin. It was Red Hood and the angry, disappointed billionaire who was most definitely going to fuck up all of Jason’s plans.

“Dunno,” Jason winced. His arms were already starting to ache. “Black Mask, maybe? Or someone trying to get the bounty?”  
  
“I could have paid it off,” Bruce said. “If you’d asked.”

“Fuck you,” Jason struggled. “I don’t need your help or your money. If you hadn’t distracted me in the first place-”

“Quiet,” Bruce said.

Jason was about to protest more, but then he realised what Bruce was picking up on. There was a conversation occurring in the front of the van.

“I still think we should’ve killed ‘em.” One voice said.

“What good are they dead?” Another replied.

“Black Mask wants ‘em dead.”

“He wants _Red Hood_ dead. Didn’t say nuthin’ about no billionaire.”

“We should keep him. Say we found Red Hood alone.”

“Nah. I reckon Black Mask’ll be more than happy with both alive. You keep saying you wanna move up in the ranks. Bringing more than what you’ve been asked for- that’s the way. And it’ll pay more, too.”

Jason swore beneath his breath. This was getting messy.

“Who was that under the mask, anyway?”

“Dunno. Some kid.”

“Wonder what he was doing with Wayne. Sticking him up, maybe?”

“It’s not our problem. Not anymore.”

The van pulled to a stop. Jason suddenly began to panic. He couldn’t think of a strategy. Not in the face of being unmasked. Not with Bruce here. It was all too much. And if they were being brought somewhere...than surely that meant...that meant…

“Bruce,” Jason whispered, eyes wide. “I think Black Mask’s out of prison.”

Bruce went very still. He turned his head to the side a little, and lowered his voice. “It’s going to be alright, Jason.”

“I’m not ready for this,” Jason said. “I- I was prepared for something else- I don’t know if I can-”

“Jason,” Bruce said. “Listen to me. No matter what happens, just stay calm. Remember. I’ve got gadgets. Don’t make a move until I give a signal.”

“And what’s that going to be?” Jason said.

Bruce didn’t get a chance to answer, because it was then that the van doors slammed open. Standing in front of them were a couple of masked men with guns. It was bright behind them- probably from the overhead lights of the house they were outside. It was cold, too. Jason bit his lip.

“Let’s get em out,” one of the men said.

The men quickly lifted Jason and Bruce out of the van, and started dragging them into the house. It was one of Sionis’ family homes- Jason recognised the outside. The inside was filled with expensive furniture, lavish carpets and chandeliers, and portraits of Black Mask. Every part of Jason wanted to use this time to strike. But Bruce obviously had something in mind, and Jason knew there was no point in fighting that now. Not when he had no plan of his own to combat it with.

“Where are we going?” He asked, instead.

“None of your business,” one of the goons said.

Jason rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t he have chatty kidnappers, just for once? Just once?

“If it’s money you want,” Bruce said. “I have it. Plenty of it.”

Jason was confused for a second, but that was before he remembered that unlike him- Bruce had a role to play. An image to maintain. Even when captured, he couldn’t allow suspicion to aroused about his secret identity. There was no doubt that crooks had tried to take advantage of him as Bruce Wayne before, and Jason had to trust that he knew what he was doing.

“Shut up, Wayne,” one of the goons said. “We’re not here for you.”

“Yeah,” another sneered. “You’re just an _added bonus.”_

Bruce and Jason shared a glance. In Bruce’s gaze there was a message: _not now._ Jason understood it as Robin, and he understood it now. Patience, if not anything else, was key here. It wouldn’t take a genius to understand that they were out-manned and outgunned. They were being held by at least six men each as they were paraded around the house. And around every corner of Black Mask’s mansion lay another few henchmen, equipped with their own private armoury of weapons- and ready to strike.

Jason couldn’t help but smirk at that. Black Mask obviously felt nervous, if he’d hired these many people to deal with a minor irritation and a billionaire. Under all of that wealth and splendour and muscle, Black Mask was just a stupid crook. He always had been.

And Jason was going to take him out tonight. With or without Bruce’s help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! i've just joined tumblr! my username is redtruthed. you can follow me there if you want, or maybe even say hi! I’d love to talk to people about this fic and my neverending adoration for jason todd. Hope to see you there!


	10. x. icarus flies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason, Bruce and Black Mask have an unfortunate reunion.

The thugs dragged Jason and Bruce to what seemed to be a dining room. But, because Black Mask was Black Mask, it was actually a _dining-room sized_ office. Jason didn’t know if he was impressed or amused. Not even Bruce’s vanity- or false sense of vanity- had managed to reach such heights.

Jason’s legs were kicked from beneath him, and he was, much to his annoyance, forced to kneel. The same treatment was given to Bruce, who complied stiffly beside him. The first thing Jason noticed in this new position was that his body really, really, hurt. The second thing was how nice the carpet was. The third was that Black Mask had only gotten uglier in prison. This was a fact he learned by looking upwards.

Sionis was sat at his desk, champagne in his right hand, a gun in his left. He was wearing a red velvet shirt and a shiny golden watch. And his forearms were as hairy as they’d ever been.

“Well well well,” he said. “What do we have here?”

“Red Hood, sir,” a thug excitedly piped up from beside Jason. “Oh, and Bruce Wayne. He was a bonus.”

“It was a rhetorical question,” Black Mask said.

He let out a deep sigh, and for a few moments stared directly at Jason, a hand propping up his chin.

“Like what you see?” Jason asked.

He couldn’t help it. Black Mask’s gaze was fucking _uncomfortable_. It always had been. But they’d never actually been in the same room before. Not this close up. And Black Mask had never been that much of a threat before. But now…

Now, Jason just didn’t know. And that terrified him.

“I’m just taking it in,” Black Mask said.

“What?”

“The sight of the little brat who’s been causing me Hell for the past year.”

“Aww,” Jason grinned. “Love you too.”

Black Mask put down the gun, and clenched his fist instead. “You know, I’ve thought long and hard about this. The day where you finally get what you deserve. How I’m gonna make you pay for everything you’ve done to my businesses. I went over various options in my head. Torture...murder...imprisonment…”

Jason rolled his eyes. Beside him, Bruce was growing more and more tense. He was hiding it well. But Jason could see the signs as Robin, and he could certainly see them now. Jason just hoped he really did have a plan in store. Because if not...Jason could certainly see some more torture, imprisonment and murder in his future.

“But I decided, what the Hell,” Black Mask stood. “Why not go for all three? I’ve got time, now I’m free and all. And you’ve got time, since you’re all tied up…”

He made a gesture, and one of the thugs tugged on Jason’s hair, tipping his head back. Jason hissed, writhing. God. He hated interrogations. Hated them even more at the feet of people like Roman motherfucking Sionis.

“I’ve just got one question,” Black Mask said, approaching him. “What has a prick like you got to do with Bruce Wayne? You guys pals or something?”

“I don’t know,” Jason hissed. “Why don’t you ask him.”

Bruce’s face looked oddly calm under the pressure. “I owed him a few goods. That’s all.”  
  
Great. Now Jason sounded like a drug dealer. But Black Mask didn’t seem to care too much about that. He rounded on Jason, forgetting about Bruce completely.

“Speaking of goods,” Black Mask said. “Where’s mine?”

“Excuse me?” Jason felt like laughing.

“Where’s the rest of my motherfucking goods, you twerp?” Black Mask was in his face now. “You sold everything I had a year ago. I had Kryptonite and a dozen more Amazo clones on the go. I know you didn’t detonate them all. You’re too smart for that. So where the fuck are they? Or the money they’re worth?”

“Up,” Jason said.

“What?”

“Your arse,” Jason finished.

Black Mask backhanded him so hard Jason fell fully out of the thug’s grasp and collided hard with the floor. _Ouch._ Already, he could feel his body gearing to pass out again, desperate to heal the injury...but he couldn’t. He had to resist. Had to stay awake. He couldn’t leave Black Mask there with Bruce- for either of their sakes.

“If you’re unwilling to talk now, we’re just going to have to convince you,” Black Mask said. “Get my knife, boys.”

A thug disappeared, and reappeared, with a dagger in his hands. Black Mask took it and spun it a few times between his fingers, chuckling.

“If you think that scares me,” Jason said, scowling. “You’re wrong.”

“That’s just as well,” Black Mask said. “Because it’s not for you.”

In one fluid movement he turned and sank it into Bruce’s side. Bruce’s eyes went wide. He obviously hadn’t been expecting it, which somehow made it so much worse. Jason writhed, trying to sit up- but the thugs were holding him down, and Bruce was falling to the floor, and God no not this not this not this-

“Now,” Black Mask said. “I’m going to ask you again. And for every answer you give that I don’t like, Wayne here is going to get another hole in his chest.”

“Boss,” one of the thugs said, weakly. “Wayne’s worth _billions._ Don’t you think-”

“I’m not an idiot, Greg! Shut up and patch him up. Loosely!” Black Mask put his head in his hands. “Jesus.”

As the thugs crowded around Bruce, Black Mask turned to Jason. He tilted his head and held the knife to Jason’s cheek.

“Sorry about that,” Black Mask said. “They’re a little new. Had to replace most of my workforce after some nutjob mowed them down last year.”

“That must’ve sucked,” Jason said. He was trying his best to look at Bruce, to see if he was okay- but Black Mask was holding him down.

“You’re right,” Black Mask said. “It did suck. But not at much as this is going to suck.”

He held the knife above Jason’s eye, and was about to take action when a yelp burst out from behind them. Bruce had managed to break free, and now there was a net around three of the thugs, and another two were convulsing on the ground beside him. Taser mines. Damn. Bruce really wasn’t playing around.

“What the Hell?” Black Mask said, jumping back. “You said they were unarmed!”

“Red Hood was, sir!” One of the thugs holding Jason let go. “But you didn’t ask us to check-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Black Mask grunted. “If you need a job doing, you have to do it your-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish that sentence, because Jason swung his legs around and knocked Sionis off balance. He stumbled, falling to the floor, and Jason tried to use that opportunity to crawl away. But there were three more thugs coming towards him, trying to pin him down again, and Goddamnit, Jason wanted his guns so badly-

“What the fuck?” Black Mask yelled, through the chaos. “Since when could Wayne do that?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He was too busy knocking out goons left right and centre, uncaring about where his fists hit. And where they could not, gadgets filled the gap. Two of the thugs coming for Jason tripped over bolases, and Jason managed to knock the other back with a headbutt. Bruce kicked Black Mask in the head, keeping him down, before rushing to Jason. Jason didn’t fail to notice he was clutching his side.

“Bruce, what the Hell?” Jason said, as Bruce undid the ropes. “Why did you-”

“Talk later,” Bruce said. “Get out now.”

“You’re wounded,” Jason said, as Bruce began ushering him out of the room. “We can’t just- and Black Mask-”

“I’ve got my best people on it,” Bruce said.

And of _course_ he did. Judging by that statement, Bruce must’ve alerted some kind of homing device or alarm...and the rest of the family were on route to this location, if not already here. They’d finish this quickly, with minimal casualties... _their_ way.

But Jason had waited so long to put a bullet between Black Mask’s eyes. And once he woke up, there was no way he wasn’t going to join the dots between Bruce’s fighting, gadgets and association with the Red Hood...especially after last year…

Jason turned half-way down the corridor and ran. He couldn’t leave this unfinished. Not now- not ever.

“Jason!” Bruce called after him, but Jason didn’t care, he was going to go and he was going to end what he started, even if it landed him in jail-

He rushed into the office and picked up Black Mask’s discarded knife. But Black Mask was nowhere to be seen. Which was impossible, because he’d literally just been on the floor, in the middle of his office and the rest of his unconscious thugs…

“Annoying and dumb,” a voice said, from beside him. “What a combination.”

Fuck.

Jason looked to his right. Of course Black Mask had been hiding behind the door. It was the oldest trick in the motherfucking book. And now he was holding a gun to Jason’s forehead. As per usual.

“I should’ve killed you the second I laid eyes on you,” Black Mask mused. “But I don’t make mistakes twice.”

“Go on, then,” Jason egged. “Do it. I’ll only come back.”

Black Mask froze. “What?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Jason said, stalling for time. “I’m immortal now.”

“Jason!” A voice yelled.

Ah. Jason rolled his eyes. Great.

“Who’s that?” Black Mask said, frightful. “Who did you bring here?”

“Jason? Are you there?”

Jason wanted to do nothing more than tell Dick to fuck off. But he couldn’t do that now. Not when it would only draw more attention to him. Jason needed to keep Black Mask’s focus here. Keep the danger contained. He dropped the knife and put his hands in the air.

“Wisest decision you’ve made all night,” Black Mask said. “Turn around. Walk into the hallway.”

Jason bit his lip and did so. He just didn’t expect to find the entire family- Dick, Bruce, Cass, Steph, Tim and Damian, all in costume- there. Not that it mattered. They hated him anyway. They’d hate him even more when they learned about the mess he’d gotten Bruce into- and the reason he was hurt.

He scanned their expressions and found only confusion, hurt, and shock there. Bruce looked as though his world was ending beside them. Damian had been trying to wrap a bandage around his father’s stomach. But now he was just gaping.

“I’m taking this kid, and I’m walking out of here,” Black Mask warned.

“No,” Cass called.

“I’m not playing around,” Black Mask said, pressing the barrel against Jason’s head.

“It’s okay,” Jason said, forcefully neutral. “Let’s do what the good man says.”

“Good man,” Black Mask repeated, putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “I could get used to that.”

They started to walk. Jason kept his hands in the air, and his eyes focused on the family, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t do anything rash. Because Hell. Jason was about to make the rashest decision he’d done in a long while.

“Won’t mean I’ll keep my peace, though,” Black Mask added. They were getting close to the window in the middle of the hall- one that lead, nine floors down, to the courtyard below. “About you freaks. About Wayne’s involvement in all of this.”

Tim sucked in a breath, incredibly tense. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t think I haven’t drawn the dots together,” Black Mask goaded. “Just think how much I’m gonna make from the fact that Bruce Wayne is really Batm-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Because Jason turned and pushed Black Mask out of the window.

In the moment, it was a really good idea. But a moment later, it was the worst decision he’d ever made. Because Black Mask was still holding onto Jason, and that meant that he had to go down with him.

They fell for half a second, and then landed, in a horrible, violent heap, on the ground below. There were shards of glass strewn everywhere, Jason was bleeding in more places than he could ever imagined- and he could hear yelling from afar.

 _Oh, it’s okay,_ he told himself. _You died once. They’ll get over it._

His eyes began to close. Beneath him, he could feel Black Mask’s body still- unmoving, not breathing and limp. Well- at least some good had come out of this whole mess.

“Jason!”

“Oh my God!”

“Is he-”

Jason heard footsteps. A pair of fingers jabbed at his neck. “He’s alive.”

“Thank fuck.”

“How-”

“Why did he-”

“Bruce?”

Jason was slowly turned over. His breath was wheezing, and he could feel the darkness slowly taking over him. That blissful promise of sleep. In this moment, it was a blessing. Bruce’s face crept into Jason’s view, wrought with shock and horror and guilt and fear. Jason must’ve been dreaming.

“Hood,” he said, crouching. “Jason. Can you hear me?”

“Ha,” Jason said, eyes closing. “I got him. For you.”

“Jason,” Bruce clutched at Jason’s shoulders. “Jay, please. You need to stay awake.”

“Sleeping heals me,” Jason mumbled. “Stop getting weepy.”

Dick’s voice called from above. “The car’s ten seconds away.”

“Don’t need it,” Jason batted a hand, but Bruce started picking him up instead of leaving him alone, and his body was filled with shrapnel all broken and the family were looking at him like they pitied him and God- God, Jason hated all of this. He hated Bruce. He hated everything. “Fuck off, Bruce.”

“I’m going to get you the help you need,” Bruce said.

“I don’t want it.”

“You’re bleeding to death, Jay.”

“I heal,” Jason said. “Don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity, you asshat!” Steph said, exasperated. “When will you get it in your head that he loves you!”

“Steph,” Bruce said, warning.

But it had already had it’s effect. Jason was laughing, his breaths laboured and withering away, and then he was crying, because it was too much all at once. Jason was dying in Bruce’s arms again, well not really, but almost quite- and Bruce didn’t love him anymore, he just wanted to feel guilty about something and Jason was that and only that, Bruce’s guilt, Bruce’s greatest mistake, someone he’d never, ever save over the Joker-

“You cut my throat,” Jason said, miserably. He gave up all fight, and collapsed back into Bruce’s arms, his knees buckling, and his back to Bruce’s chest. “Bruce. You...you hurt me.”

Bruce sat down, his arms wrapped around Jason, his hands trying to keep the blood in. “I know.”

“Why?” Jason rasped. He was fighting the urge to faint so badly he feared his brain might split. But he needed to know.

“I was afraid,” Bruce said, so quietly that Jason could not hear him.

Jason nodded. He closed his eyes, and put one of his hands over Bruce’s. Everything was bleeding. And in that moment, nothing mattered, and Jason was in too much pain to care about things, even if they did matter.

“I put a bomb under the Batmobile,” Jason admitted, voice a hoarse whisper. In the background, he could hear the car screeching towards them. “I was going to kill you as well. Because I was afraid.”

“I deserved it, Jay.” Bruce said. “I let you down. You’re my son. You will always be my son. And I never- ever- wanted to hurt you.”

“That’s the thing,” Jason said. “I _wanted_ to kill you. And I think I still do.”

“Bruce, the car’s here,” Dick’s voice cut in, just as Jason started to drift. “Bruce. We need to get him up- and get that glass out, now- and- you’re still wounded-”

As Jason’s coherence faded, so did the sound of Dick’s speech. And _most_ of everything else.

Jason could feel touches, temperatures. And he could faintly recognise the rest of the group moving around him. Trying to talk to Bruce. Fighting the last of Black Mask’s thugs as they poured out of the house. Urging Bruce to do anything at all- fight, help, move. But Bruce did nothing. Bruce just held Jason, tighter than anyone had ever hold him, tears streaming silently down his face and landing in Jason’s hair.

Jason understood.

He wanted to cry too, but he was just too tired. Too tired of this stupid cycle. Pain and trust, again and again, in an endless circle, on and on and on and on... He’d trusted Bruce as a kid. That had ended in pain. He’d trusted Bruce upon his resurrection. That ended in pain too. And now...if Jason survived this, he knew there would be no future for him. Bruce was holding him now, but when he was cleaned up and healed and no longer bloody, he was going to throw him away. He was going to toss Jason into jail. Betray him all over again. And Jason would rather have remained dead than suffer that. It always, always ended in pain. Why was that?

“I’m scared, Bruce,” Jason said, voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m scared.”

And then he fell into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls don't hate me :')
> 
> also i've just joined tumblr. My username is redtruthed! pls scream at me there, i'd love you to join me


	11. xi. the lazarus leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family reflects on all that they have done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was my favourite chapter to write. it's something a little bit different, but i hope you like it.

_> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG. _

>created by: BATMAN. CLEARANCE=HIGHEST.

It has been three weeks and five days since the incident with Black Mask.

Jason has still not woken.

We do not know why.

I am at his bedside, as I have been during every night since he fell unconscious. I would be here during the day as well, but for Nightwing’s insistence that I sleep. Even though I do, I find I cannot leave the cave. I fear every minute he is out of my sight. Because now that he has returned to all of our lives, every moment I look away I’m transported back to Ethiopia. I failed him then. I cannot fail him now.

His heart rate is steady, and his vitals are completely normal. Even his brain activity seems to be active. For all intents and purposes, Jason should be awake. But he is not.

His injuries are healing faster than the ordinary human body, but not as quickly as they have done in recent weeks. I do not know if he has any control over this. I have learned what I can from Robin and Nightwing about his suspected condition. But both Talia and Ra’s Al Ghul have proven increasingly difficult to find, and without their help, I have nothing. They are undeniably the experts on the pit, and the ones most likely responsible for Jason’s current condition.

I did not know Jason spent his year away from us with the Al Ghuls. A part of me hoped that he would never return there. That he would’ve found his situation here, even though I treated him poorly, preferable to the one overseas.

But I was wrong.

I was wrong about a lot of things, it seems. Especially in relation to him.

I overheard Tim and Cass talking about what had happened. I don’t know if they intended me to hear or not. They were discussing possible reasons as to why Jason had not awoken yet. Most were ones that I had heard already, such as infection, or a coma, or a serious concussion. One struck me more than most.

Tim: Or maybe he doesn’t want to.

Cass: What?

Tim: Think about it. All of the other times he’s woken up...Jason has been focused on his task. He had something to wake up for. And now…

Cass: Now, he has nothing.

I have not been able to get that conversation out of my head. And the fact that they are most likely right.  
  
If Jason has control over his unconsciousness...there would be no reason for him to think that we want him alive. That we value him at all. He does not want to stay alive because he fears persecution. Rejection. And harm. From us.

And that is completely, entirely, my fault.

I cannot live with myself.

-

 _> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG._  
>created by: NIGHTWING. CLEARANCE=HIGH.

Bruce is taking this hard. He hasn’t left the cave in three weeks. Even Alfred seems to have given up on trying to convince him to get out of there. I haven’t seen Bruce like this since...well. Since Jason died.

I don’t know if he’ll recover if it happens again. I don’t know if any of us will.

-

 _> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG._  
>created by: ROBIN. CLEARANCE=HIGH.

Todd has created quite the stir recently. And the past few weeks have been no exception.

We’re free to visit him any time we like. But I don’t like seeing my father like this. He’s distant. Distracted. And when he isn’t either of those, he’s interrogating me again, and again, and again, about the lazarus pit. But there is only so much I know. Mother and grandfather didn’t tell me everything. And once father realises this, he hugs me, and then stomps back to the computer. There’s a desperation to it I think I understand.

I read the notes on what Bane did to my father. After Todd’s death. And even reading them I felt the urge to help. Do something- _anything-_ to save him, at a time where he was so alone. I would’ve fought Bane with no hope at all if it had meant I’d save my father. And I think my father feels the same way about Todd.

I managed to sneak down to see him while father was asleep. He was in the chair beside the bed still, and I don’t think for one moment that he didn’t sense me down there with him. But at that moment I didn’t care. I wanted to see Todd for my own eyes. I wanted to be the one who found a way to fix him, so that he would love me, and my father would as well.

Todd and I have similar experiences. I don’t want him to die. He may be the closest thing I have to a brother who knows what it is like to be not the same. And I do not want to lose that.

When I visited, Todd looked as though he was sleeping. It took a few prods on my part to convince me that he wasn’t. His eyes were glowing green, just as green as the pit. And he was breathing. But his arms and legs were floppy, and he did not move, so there was no way he could have been dreaming.

A part of me is glad about that. When I dream, I dream of my mother and blood and suffering. I would do anything to spare Todd the same fate.

-

 _ >accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG. _  
>created by: ORACLE. CLEARANCE=HIGH.

Bruce, I know you’re going to read this, because you read all of these computer logs. And I’m sorry for impeding on your personal space. But you haven’t been answering my calls or messages. And I don’t know how else to reach you.

I’m sorry about what I said about Jason. Part of me wishes I could take it back. But I can’t. He clearly means a great deal to you, and a great deal to the family as well. I don’t know what his unconsciousness means for him or us. But it’s been over three weeks. You need to start dealing with the idea that he might not wake at all.

If he does wake, you need to know this.

This Jason is not the Jason we lost. He is not the same person anymore. I treated him harshly because I thought that he was. But it is unfair to draw comparisons between who he used to be and who he is now. Because his experiences have been fundamentally different. I don’t know the details of them, and I don’t presume for one moment that he will ever trust me enough again to tell me. The killing thing is obviously something you will have to deal with eventually. Like it or not, he did murder Black Mask three weeks ago, and the city is still feeling the repercussions of that. And I think, underneath it all, you are too.

But most of all, please don’t assume that he will stay. I know how desperately you want him to. But again, he is not the Jason we knew, and this is certainly not a Jason who sees us as family anymore. I know I’m part of the reason why. But if he is going to come back to the family, his journey is going to be a rocky one, and I know it will take awhile for wounds to heal on both sides. I know how horrible this may sound, but I still don’t trust him. I visited him earlier, as you know. And while you ignored me, I thought about all of the blood on his hands, and thought about the terror he caused all of us a year ago.

And then I thought about the little brother I had. The one that used to make me hot chocolate and braid my hair. The one we all loved so desperately. The one I never fully trusted you with, because I was afraid you were too focused on making him a better Robin to love him properly.

Well, I’m trusting you with him now. I know that probably means close to nothing to you. And I suppose, in the scheme of things, it really doesn’t. What I’m saying is- if you trust him, and you love him- don’t screw it up. I know I screwed a lot of things up myself, and I will apologise and atone for all of that eventually. I just need some time to process everything. It takes awhile for me to build my trust in people, and I know you are the same.

I just hope you’re right in where you’ve placed yours. For all of our sakes.

_-_

_ >accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG. _  
>created by: SPOILER. CLEARANCE=MEDIUM.

Listen, I don’t know if I’m technically allowed to use this. It’s just- I’ve been seeing everyone else use it all week instead of, you know, actually talking to one another, and I wanted to see for myself what it was all about, you know? I guess if I’m not allowed to use it I’ll just get my security clearance lowered again, or something. No biggie.

I feel like shit.

I treated Jason like shit. I know everyone did, but I feel as though I was the one person who truly had no reason to. Sure, everyone was telling me he was a criminal. But I know what it’s like to be mistrusted and underestimated by nearly everyone I’ve ever met. And Jason and I share a similar upbringing. I feel as though I should’ve used that to kinda reach out to him. And not handcuff him to the sink. Maybe. But I didn’t know what else to do! I didn’t want to give him to Bruce (no offence) but I couldn’t let him go either. He was too important. To Bruce, to the mission, to everything. It was like I was meeting some kind of minor celebrity or something. And I just let it go to my head.

I hope Jason has a phone. Because when he wakes up, I’m going to text him all of the time. I’m going to try and be his friend. I don’t know if he’ll want to. And, I know, he’s still a murdery gang boss and stuff. But he's just a kid. And we’ve all done things we’ve regretted. And if I can regret everything I’ve done recently, maybe he can too.

-

 _> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG._  
>created by: PENNY-ONE. CLEARANCE=HIGHEST.

I am updating the file on behalf of Master Bruce, who is otherwise preoccupied.

I will be brief, as I may be needed elsewhere soon, but Master Jason is showing signs of waking up. We are not entirely certain. But he was talking last night, and has been moving as though he is merely asleep all throughout the morning. It is 4:00 a.m. now. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen the family so excited in quite some time. Masters Dick and Damian have been taking it in turns to watch over Bruce, and I thank them endlessly for it. We can all do rash things when the people we love are in jeopardy. I just hope that when Jason wakes- if he wakes- all is well. The last thing that poor boy needs is another problem on his plate. Master Jason deserves all of the health and love in the world. He always has.

-

 _> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG._  
>created by: BATGIRL. CLEARANCE=HIGH.

Updating on behalf of Alfred, because he is busy. Jason’s heart rate has picked up, and we are all sat in the cave right now, waiting to see if anything will happen. Even Barbara is here. It feels like...Christmas. If Christmas was for a boy. I suppose for most of America, it is.

I have just finished patrol and I am so tired. But I will stay up to see if Jason is alright. And if he isn’t, I will see if everyone else is. It is the least that I can do.

-

 _> accessing file: BATCOMPUTER TEXT LOG._  
>created by: RED ROBIN. CLEARANCE=HIGH.

Updating on behalf of Cass and Alfred, because they’re crying. Jason is awake. I repeat. Jason is awake.

-

Jason blinked slowly, as if he’d been asleep for a single night, and not over three weeks. His curly hair was wild from the pillow, and for a second he stared blankly ahead, the green fading from his eyes.

Bruce watched all of this, breath bated, from the seat beside him. The family were in another part of the cave, having promised Bruce a little time with him first. Bruce just hoped this went well enough for Jason to consider talking to them before he inevitably left. The chances of this, considering Bruce’s poor communication skills...were slim.

Jason frowned, batting weakly at the wires protruding from him at every angle. Fearing a repeat of what had happened last time, Bruce brought the chair a little closer, and guided Jason’s hand away from his IV line. Jason’s eyes widened, and for a second he stared at Bruce, horrified. And then he tugged the hand away.

“How long?” He said. His voice was crackled, and each word was followed by a minute cough.

“Three weeks, five days.”

“Shit,” Jason said. He started to cough, and Bruce stood to fetch him some water. “No. S’fine. Stay.”

Bruce stayed. He sat back down and tried desperately to think of what to say. He was undeniably nervous. When Jason had been asleep, it had been so easy to think of what to say to him. How to...try to fix things. But now he was here, there was nothing Bruce could do. It was like every possibly good outcome had flown out of his grip. And now he was sat here, in front of a son that didn’t love him anymore, with no words to say. What did that make him?

“I think s’failing,” Jason said, after a while. He pointed to his chest. “Hurts. Still.”

“You took longer to heal than expected.”

“Yeah,” Jason closed his eyes. “At least the glass is out, though.”

“Yes,” Bruce looked away.

He hadn’t forgotten that night- the capture, the fight, the moment Jason had dived through that window. And then the moment they’d arrived at the medbay, and Alfred and he had no choice but to pull every shrapnel of glass from Jason’s broken, twisted figure, and Bruce had sobbed, because he never thought he’d see Jason again, not like this, and it had been all his fault...  
  
Jason’s eyes watered a little. He was thinking of that night as well- Bruce could sense it. Jason’s lip wobbled, and all Bruce could think about was the eleven year old boy standing in Crime Alley, panic in his face and a crowbar in his hands. His lip had wobbled then too. Bruce had done so much wrong since then. And things could’ve been so different.

“Is Black Mask dead?” Jason asked, then. He didn’t look as though he wanted to know the answer.

“Yes.”

Jason let out a deep breath, a stiff one, and met Bruce’s eye. He looked as though he was bracing himself for something. Bruce wondered what.

“So when am I off to Arkham?” He asked, completely seriously.

Bruce felt like laughing. It was stupid, but he did.

“Jason,” he said, reaching forwards. “I would never. Ever. Send you there.”

“But I killed,” Jason said. “You saw it. We all did. And what’s more- I enjoyed it. Some lovey-dovey bullshit isn’t going to fix that, Bruce. And you’re a fool if you think it will.”

“I didn’t think it would,” Bruce admitted. “But this isn’t about that. This is about you.”

“Me?” Jason’s eyebrows shot up.

“Keeping you safe, making sure you’re okay…” Bruce moved closer. “It’s my top priority at the moment.”

“So you don’t care about the killings,” Jason frowned.

“Of course I do. What you did was appalling-”

“Great,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“But you don’t understand what I’m saying,” Bruce said. “I’m saying that...we don’t have to talk about it now. Not that I don’t care. I just...I want you safe, Jay. Nothing else matters.”

Jason swallowed, hard. His eyes were glassy. “That wasn’t the case last year, though.”

“No,” Bruce said.

“And- and that time a few weeks ago?” Jason asked. “When you said I was _misunderstanding_ when I was standing up for myself? When you let them talk so much about me behind my back?”

“I was wrong to let it happen.”

“You’ve been wrong about a lot of things recently,” Jason accused. His eyes were alight, and Bruce couldn’t tell what with. He sighed, looking at his hands.

“You’re right,” he said, finally. “And I most likely will be wrong again. And again. And again. And there’s no reason for you to expect anything other than that from me. I don’t ask you to. All that I ask is that you let us make sure you’re safe.”

“And after that?” Jason twitched a little. “After I’m better?”

“Then...it is up to you,” Bruce said. “You can stay, you can leave. You can start a new life somewhere else, if that is what you want. I can’t...I don’t...have a right to dictate what you do anymore. I’m not your father, not in any way that matters. I think we’ve established that.”

Jason stared at him, his jaw wobbling. Bruce couldn’t bear to hear what came next, so he stood, turning towards the other side of the cave.

“The others are waiting to see you. I should get them.”

“Bruce-” Jason said, urgently. “Bruce, please. Wait.”

Bruce waited. He turned around, unsure of what he was going to find there. But he certainly wasn’t expecting to see Jason crying, his hands shaking, and his eyes filled with anger and dismay and hurt and hope.

“Please don’t leave me,” Jason said. “I know- I know you hate me. And I hate you. But please. Just for now. Stay?”

Bruce sat down immediately, and reached for Jason’s trembling hands. “I do not hate you, Jason.”

“You do,” Jason said. “You don’t want me. You want the kid that died. Not the kid that murders and steals and lies and has a rap sheet longer than main street.”

“That isn’t important right now,” Bruce pressed. “You are my son. And I love you.”

“Until it wears off,” Jason said, fully shaking now. His words were halfway between speech and sobs. “Until I do something you can’t condone. It was the same last year. We were working together. You came to save me. And then- and then I killed. And suddenly we were enemies again. And I was tossed away. To the side. Like some villain. Like I didn’t matter.”

“It won’t happen again,” Bruce said. “I promise. We can work through it, Jason.”

“I want to believe you,” Jason said. “But I can’t stop doing what I do, Bruce. And I know you can’t stop either. And that means I won’t stop letting you down. And that means...that means...you won’t stop leaving.”

“Jaylad,” Bruce said, a desperate plea. “I won’t leave you. Never again.”

Jason threw himself into Bruce then, reaching for his shoulders, and Bruce could do nothing but hold him.

“If this is my last chance, I don’t want to waste it,” Bruce said, into his hair. “I know there is a lot to take in. And a lot wrong. And a lot we both have to atone for. But I’m here for you. If- if you’ll have me.”

Jason didn’t answer. He just kept sobbing and sobbing and sobbing into Bruce’s chest, and Bruce kept rubbing his back in return. It was all he could do. So much was in the air, and far from reach. But Jason wasn’t, right now. At least physically.

So Bruce took the leap. And held him.


	12. xii. ways and means

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An end and a beginning.

_“And now, the latest on the suspected murder of business executive, Roman Sionis…”_

“Master Jason,” a voice said, drawing Jason out of his solitude. “The car is ready for you.”

Jason leaned up from where he sat on the sofa, legs spread out, hair wild from beneath his hoodie. He’d been halfheartedly eating a bowl of ice cream at the time, but this now lay discarded beside him. Alfred frowned at that, and placed it onto the coffee table. Then, he realised what Jason was watching, and frowned even further.

“It does not do well to dwell, sir,” he said, filled with grief.

Jason sighed and shrugged. _Dwelling_ was pretty much all he’d been doing for the past two weeks. Staying in the Manor whilst he recovered from his injuries...hadn’t been as bad as he’d expected it to be. But it had certainly been awkward. Jason didn’t need someone to tell him that all wasn’t forgiven. Everytime he was in the room with the family, or passed them in the hallway, or told them he was going downstairs to train, he felt it. Every conversation was dipped in forced humour, or finished with a stiff glance. Even people like Alfred and Dick, who had been accommodating of Jason ever since his return, seemed to feel it too.

But it was to be expected. Even though Jason’s stay came with unspoken compromises- that he wouldn’t try to continue his mission whilst under their roof, and that he certainly wouldn’t try to kill anyone- it was the best case scenario that he ever could’ve hoped for. Not that he was _happy_ about having to put his work on pause.

“I’m not,” he said, turning back to Alfred. “I’m just- keeping up with the gossip.”

Alfred raised an eyebrow towards the news report. “I’m not sure people dying quite comes under the bracket of ‘gossip’, Master Jason.”

“Still,” Jason shrugged, grinning. “Hey. Did hear about that Gotham Gazette story?”

“Which one, sir?”

Jason unfolded the newspaper from where it lay on the coffee table. _“After a fateful collision two weeks ago, it has been confirmed from an unknown source that the Red Hood and Black Mask have both met their end- at the hands of each other_. They think I’m dead, Alfie. Again.”

“Oh dear,” Alfred pursed his lips. “Ms Vale always did have a flair for the dramatics.”

“I mean,” Jason folded up the newspaper again. “I don’t really know how I feel about it.”

“How do you want to feel about it?”

“Happy? I guess?” Jason scowled. “I mean- it kinda ends things. Especially in terms of the bounty. But a lot of areas in Gotham are- were under my protection. And there’s no-one to stop people for going for them now. I mean- I have over fifty thousand dollars in weapons alone. In one warehouse. I don’t like leaving things up in the air.”

“Well, luckily for you, we’re here to catch them for you,” Dick said, from the hallway.

“Dickhead!” Jason’s face scrunched up in a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you off,” Dick grinned. “Also, to eat the rest of your ice cream. Because _oh my God,_ what a waste, Jay.”

He sprang onto the sofa beside Jason, and picked up the ice cream bowl. He wiped Jason’s spoon on Jason’s arm before using it himself.

“You’re disgusting,” Jason scowled.

“Aww. Love you too,” Dick grinned, and carried on eating. “Anyway, all you have to do is give the word and we’ll sort out your warehouses for you.”

“Dick,” Jason smiled faintly. “There’s a lot.”

Dick shrugged. “There’s a lot of us.”

“Maybe,” Jason looked away. “I’m- I’m not really sure yet.”

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to showcase that side of himself to them. He was sure they already knew about it, but showing them the artifacts of what he’d collected during his crime lord phase- and his vigilante phase- especially when they’d only just started accepting him again, seemed risky. He wasn’t sure if he could take being rejected again. Especially from Bruce.

“It’s okay, Little Wing,” Dick slung an arm around him. “You don’t have to worry about it now.”

“Yeah, I guess I don’t,” Jason mused. “Hey, Alfie, do you think you could give me five minutes?”

“Of course, Master Jason,” Alfred nodded. “And Master Dick-”

“Yes?” Dick asked, turning around.

“You have ice cream on your chin,” Alfred said.

Dick’s eyes went wide, and his hands jumped up to wipe it off. “Jason!”

“What?” Jason laughed. “It was funnier _not_ to tell you.”

“I can’t believe you’d betray me like that,” Dick whined.

“I will see you in five minutes, sir,” Alfred smiled, before turning on the spot and leaving.

“Do you know...where Bruce is?” Jason asked, after Alfred left.

“Why?” Dick continued to wipe at his mouth. “You wanna see him?”

“I mean,” Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m not going to see any of you for a while…”

“Oh, Little Wing,” Dick put down the ice cream, and enveloped Jason in a hug. “We’re going to miss you too.”  
  
“Get off me,” Jason laughed. “Seriously. You’re all gross and sticky.”

“But I wuv youuu,” Dick sang, “because you’re my leetle broother…”

“Dick, I will seriously fight you,” Jason shoved at him. “Get off. Come on. I’m injured.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” Dick pulled away. “What bad timing for your weird healing thing to drop, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jason itched his arm and stood. “Talia always said it was going to be temporary.”

“I didn’t know you still talked to her.”

“I don’t,” Jason shrugged. “Not really. She calls me, like, every now and then. I don’t really get to dictate when it happens, you know?”

“That’s too bad,” Dick said, following Jason out of the room. “I know Damian wants to talk to her.”

“I’m sure she’s working on it,” Jason said. “Where did you say Bruce was again?”  
  
Dick snorted. “Where do you think he is?”

They slowly made their way to the study. On the way they passed Cass and Damian, who were sitting on the stairs on their Nintendo DSs. As Dick and Jason passed, Cass waved.

“Please don’t say it’s Pokemon,” Jason said.

“Pokemon is a perfectly acceptable game, Todd,” Damian said. “It’s not our fault you’re an uncultured swine.”

“You’re going to say that,” Jason said. “You’re twelve. The world doesn’t make sense to you yet.”

“Do you want to hit him, Cain?” Damian turned to his sister. “Or should I?”

Cass shook her head at them. “Next time you’re home- we will make you play.”

“Oh, Hell no,” Jason said.

Dick laughed, and started pushing Jason by the shoulders. “Don’t listen to him. I’m sure he wants to play it with you really.”

“Over my dead body,” Jason called.

“According to the Gazette, that just might be true!” Damian yelled, as Jason and Dick reached the study door.

It was closed. After the initial amusement of the past encounter faded, Jason was suddenly filled with uncertainty. He and Bruce hadn’t talked much since he’d woken up. And when they had, it had been strictly formal. Bruce had been good to him recently. Hadn’t overstepped any of Jason’s boundaries. Which scared him a little bit. It was easy to respond with agitation to agitation. But with kindness?

Jason didn’t know how to respond to Bruce being kind. He hadn’t done so for a very long time.

“I’ll go in with you, if you want,” Dick offered.

“No,” Jason stood up straight. “It’s fine. This is on me.”

He pushed the door open and walked in.

He didn’t expect to see Bruce emerging from the cave. For some reason, he thought Bruce would’ve been inside it still- hence giving Jason a lot more time to prepare. But Bruce was right there. He closed the grandfather clock shut, redid his cufflinks, and looked up with a smile. Thankfully, he looked just as nervous as Jason did.

“Jason,” he greeted, eyes filled with uncertainty.

“Hi,” Jason said. He bit his lip and looked around. “Long night?”

“Yes,” Bruce spoke, looking to the window. He seemed to only just be realising that it was light outside. “Are you all packed?”

“Yeah,” Jason itched. “Um. Alfie’s got the car out front. So I guess...I guess I’m going soon?”

“That’s good,” Bruce cleared his throat. “Not that you’re going. But that...you’re going to get help. The therapy centre...it’s the best. You’ll do well there.”

“Yeah,” Jason smiled, nervously. He was itching for a cigarette, and in that moment he wasn’t sure why.

“It was where I went,” Bruce said, clearly looking to fill the silence. “After you.”

He seemed suddenly unable to finish the sentence, and turned away, clearly regretting the fact that he’d begun it in the first place.

“Died?” Jason supplied.

“Yes,” Bruce said. He was frowning very deeply at the floor.

“Well, according to the Gazette, you might have to go there again,” Jason said, trying to shift the tone. “Since I’m dead, and all. Heh.”

“I didn’t leak that rumour,” Bruce said, immediately.

“Oh. I didn’t think you would.”

“I would never,” Bruce said. “I saw it earlier, and I thought that...I assumed that…”

“What?” Jason scowled. He was getting annoyed now.

“That you thought...might think...that I did it in order to...keep you from going back out there,” Bruce finished. “Dick asked me if I had, is all. And I just wanted you to know that I wouldn’t.”

“Bruce, it’s okay,” Jason took a step forward. “I- I don’t know if I’m ever going to go out there again. Anyway.”

Bruce frowned at that. “Are you sure?”

“Yes?” Jason shrugged. “Well. No. I don’t know. I need a break from it, anyway. I’m not sure I’m fit for it anymore. Not like this.”

Bruce looked at the floor, and nodded.

“Thank you for not doing that, though,” Jason offered. “I- I know things are tough between us right now. I appreciate you giving me a choice.”

“I should’ve given you one sooner.” Bruce said. “Can I walk you to the car?”

Jason smirked. “Sure.”

“What?” Bruce asked, as he walked past Jason, and to the door.

“Nothing,” Jason said, and then laughed. “You’re just weird, is all.”  
  
“I am trying,” Bruce supplied, opening the door, “to be nice.”

“I know, I know,” Jason walked through. “I’m sorry. It’s just funny.”

Bruce shook his head, and they walked through the corridor together. Dick wasn’t standing outside of the door anymore. Presumably, he’d left to give them space. And Jason couldn’t have been more grateful. As they passed the stairs again, Jason gave Cass a high five, and waved awkwardly at Damian. He still wasn’t good at this family thing. But he was trying. As long as they would- he figured he had to as well.

They made it outside. It was starting to rain, slightly, and Alfred was sitting in the front seat.

“Getting driven to therapy in a Bentley,” Jason remarked. “I guess it doesn’t get better than this.”

Bruce stopped by the car, putting his hands in his pockets. He looked as though he was going to cry.

“I do believe that this is the right choice, Jason,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” Jason shrugged. “You don’t have to give me the righteousness speech. I’m messed up, and I need to get better. I get it.”

“I don’t want to force you into anything.”

“This is my choice, old man,” Jason said. “Stop stressing.”

“Okay,” Bruce looked at the distance.

“Can I- um-” Jason gestured.

“Oh,” Bruce’s face filled with warmth. “Of course.”

He stepped forward and gave Jason a hug. It was tight, and extremely awkward. But Jason needed it then. A part of him felt as though he would always need it. After a few seconds, he stepped back, ruffling his hair, and making his way to the car. Short and sweet. That was how he needed to take things. Short and sweet.

“Thank you,” he said, one foot in the car. “For trying.”

“Always,” Bruce said.

Jason didn’t miss the grief in his eyes. He also didn’t miss the slight hint of resentment. They were stepping over it, for now. It was all they could afford to do without hurting anyone. But it was a start.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce,” Jason said. He stepped into the car. “Say bye to everyone for me. I mean- I think they know I’m going anyway. But still.”  
  
“I will,” Bruce said, and Jason believed him.

“Okay,” Jason emitted a short breath. He looked to Alfred, who sent him a small smile from the front seat. “So I guess I’m going to therapy.”

“Yes, Master Jason,” Alfred said. “I believe you are.”

They took off down the driveway, Bruce’s figure growing smaller and smaller in the distance. Jason sat back in his seat, sipped in a breath, and looked out of the window. He could do this. _Okay._

It was not much. It was not fixed. It was not perfect. But it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. this isn't the end of jason's story, and a sequel will be coming at some stage. but it is the end for now :') thank you for reading my very first fic for this fandom! hope you liked it!
> 
> EDIT: my next fic is up too, if you wanna check it out! it's a cute fic where the batkids form a group chat. hope to see you there!


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